


We'll Start the War from Right Here

by easy_company_tradition



Series: Catch Her If You Can [1]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate History, Episode: s01e01 Currahee, Episode: s01e02 Day of Days, F/M, Female Paratrooper, Gen, and the start of some friends to lovers, the beginning of a very long slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:13:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25772641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easy_company_tradition/pseuds/easy_company_tradition
Summary: "We'll start the war from right here." - Brigadier General Theodore Roosevelt Jr. to his troops, whom he landed with at Utah Beach on D-Day.Every war has to start somewhere. Depending on who you ask, Georgia Fenley's started at basic training in 1942, or at a mansion in Norfolk, Virginia, several decades earlier. Regardless, from Toccoa to Normandy, Georgia meets every challenge with grace, smile, and killer wit. After all, who said that being in the paratroopers couldn't be fun?
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Richard Winters/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Catch Her If You Can [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869670
Comments: 71
Kudos: 64





	1. Camp Toccoa, Georgia. Mid-October, 1942

**Author's Note:**

> Here's Chapter One Folks! It's short, but a good introduction to our leading lady and a certain someone's initial thoughts on her. Shoutout to @julianneday1701 and @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant on Tumblr for beta reading this for me 💕

POV: Georgia Fenley

_God, I need a fucking cigarette._ Georgia Fenley had been waiting outside of Colonel Sink’s office all of five minutes, and she already wanted to run. The types of men who hung around the regimental HQ offices reminded her too much of her father. _Fucking bastard_. She could smell the whisky and cigars in the air. It made her cringe. 

_Why do people drink whisky anyway? Cognac’s better._ She could practically hear Lew lecturing her on the virtues of Vat 69. But that was a conversation for later. And his friend probably wouldn’t appreciate knowing that a twenty-two year old lady already favored 250 dollar French brandy over an equally expensive blended whisky. Lew would have a hell of a time explaining that one away. Sometimes she wondered about that tall redhead. He intrigued her; he didn't seem like as much of an easy mark as most other officers did. 

“Lieutenant Fenley?” 

She looked up. It was Major Horton.

Georgia stood, smoothing her dress uniform in the process, and saluted. “Major Horton, sir.” He returned her salute, then opened the door for her. “Thank you sir.” Upon entry, she saluted Colonel Sink and Major Strayer.

“Oh, none of that Georgia.No need for such formalities in private. Have a seat.” Colonel Sink poured three glasses of whisky, offering two to Strayer and Horton and keeping one for himself. _None for me of course. The good colonel wouldn’t want to corrupt his favorite company S-2._ Georgia sat in one of the armchairs and crossed her legs at the knees. _God bless army slacks._

Her eyebrows raised a bit. “Might I ask what this is about, gentlemen?” 

“Well,” Major Horton began, “I’ll be frank with you Lieutenant. You’ve got a better performance record than most of the men under your command in Dog Company - you’re an excellent platoon leader, and you’re one hell of an intelligence officer.”

Georgia examined the men in the room with a look that told them she already knew why she’d been called here. _After all,_ _dear old Dad did always say I was too damn smart for my own good._ “Thank you sir.”

Colonel Sink cleared his throat after taking another sip of his drink. “Georgia, we’d like you to become 2nd Battalion’s S-2. You’re exactly the kind of officer we need in combat. With all due respect, your talents are wasted at the company level.”

Georgia let her face break into an appropriate smile. “Thank you sirs. I’m honored that you all trust me with this responsibility.”

Now it was Strayer’s turn to speak. “We know you won’t let us down, Captain Fenley.”

Her eyes widened. _I definitely didn’t see that one coming, but who the hell am I to complain?_ “Sir?”

Colonel Sink stood, as did the other two men. Georgia rose from the armchair as he rounded his desk, and then she saw it. A captain’s insignia, it’s silver polish catching the light from its place in Sink’s right hand. He raised his hand and asked, “May I?”

Georgia replied politely, “Certainly sir.” She pulled her overseas cap out from her belt and handed it to Colonel Sink. He removed her first lieutenant’s bar and replaced it with her shiny new captain’s bars. He handed it back to her along with a collar stud for her ODs. Then, he repeated the process with her shoulder insignia. Finished at last, Colonel Sink stepped back and regarded her with pride.

“Now, you go on and pack up your gear, then stop back here around 17:00 and we’ll get you a nice room near Battalion HQ.” Sink said.

“Yes sir.” Georgia said. She nodded to the men, then turned on her heel and walked out of the room. _Look at me now, Dad. Your darling girl’s a captain in the Airborne Infantry._ God, Andrew Fenley would have a fit if he saw his daughter in trousers, let alone firing a gun. Then again, that was kind of the point of all this.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

POV: Lewis Nixon

The heat was sweltering. The boys from Easy Company had been standing out in full gear for nearly forty-five minutes while waiting for Lieutenant Sobel. When he’d finally shown up, he’d given them hell for no reason. _What else was new_. As 2nd Platoon prepared to run Currahee, a beautiful redhead wearing her Class As departed from a small group of Dog Company officers.

“Trouble in paradise, Lew?” she called. When Lew turned to face her, she flashed him a grin. A cigarette dangled between her lips and she looked at Nixon expectantly.

“Always.” Nixon dug through his pocket. His hand emerged with his lighter, and the redheaded woman leaned in. “Where’s your light?”

The two began to stroll towards Dick. “In Washington up General Bradley’s ass.” She snapped. Nixon looked at her incredulously. “Lew, he’s a sexist son of a bitch and you know it.”

Nixon nodded. “I’m aware, but I’d watch your mouth about. Remember what the poster’s say? He’s watching you.” Nixon teased. 

Georgia rolled her eyes.“I think I’ll be perfectly safe up at Battalion, thank you very much. Especially with these.” She said, pointing to the captain’s bars on her overseas cap. She took another drag of her cigarette.

Nixon raised his eyebrows. “Shit kid, you got promoted already? You’re making me look bad to Kathy.”

She laughed. “It won’t be official for a couple of days. I had the meeting with Sink, Horton and Strayer earlier today, and I was informing the Dog officers while your charming CO was making his opinions of your company known to all of Toccoa.”

Nixon and Winters visibly cringed. “Hey Nix, we need to get going.” Winters said, having already changed into his PT gear.

The woman patted his arm, smiling in understanding.“Catch you later.” 

“Yeah, see you around G.” Nixon answered. The two parted ways as Nixon brushed past Winters in the doorway of the officers’ quarters.

Winters looked at his friend. “Who was that?”

“An old friend,” Nixon said with a shake of his head and a smile. Then he noticed the disapproval on his friend’s face. Lew’s lip curled up. “Not like that! God, I’ve known Georgia for years. We grew up together, our fathers are business associates.”

“Oh. Alright.” Winters turned back to the doorway. The woman - Georgia, he corrected - was now speaking with an officer from Dog Company. Speirs? “Hey Lew, why was a secretary hanging around the paratroops anyway?”

Nixon, who had been taking one last sip of his precious Vat 69, promptly choked. “Don’t let Georgia hear you say that, she’ll kill you. She was a platoon leader in Dog - their S-2 - but she’s moving up to Battalion. Just promoted from first lieutenant to captain.”

“How do you think she’ll measure up?” Winters asked.

“Georgia Fenley’s tough as nails. If anybody bitches at her she’ll bitch right back with a smile and a nod. Besides, she’s run Currahee in under 40 minutes,” Nix said. He and Dick began walking out of the hut to meet up with the rest of the company.

Dick gaped at his best friend. “That’s better than most of the men in Easy - in the battalion!”

_You know, these two might not get on so bad._ “I told you,” Nixon said. He continued straight through Sobel’s yelling, unfazed. “She’s tough as nails.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

POV: Dick Winters 

Dick sighed. _How is it that it can still be so hot and humid even after sunset?_ The sun had dipped below the horizon hours ago as Easy began their standard Friday night march. He’d seen her again near the base gate; her red hair had caught the sunlight and drawn his attention. She was wearing a forest-green dress, perfect for dancing, with black heels and her hair swept out of her face with a jeweled comb. _Had those been real diamonds_ , Dick asked himself. He wasn’t sure. He hadn’t been close enough to tell. But he’d never seen that many diamonds before. Suddenly, he heard the unmistakable _click-clack_ of heeled shoes on gravel. Of course she would invade his personal space as well as his mind.

“Lieutenant Winters!” Bull called out to him. 

He took a breath, then replied.“What is it?”

“Permission to address Captain Fenley, sir.” 

That gave Dick pause. _Had news of her promotion really gotten around that fast._ He pondered again. _Well, what harm could it do?_ “If it’s alright by her, then it’s alright by me.”

He heard the click of a lighter cap closing, then began to smell the smoke of her cigarette as it wafted towards him. 

“What’s on your mind, Private?” she asked.

“Did Dog Company ever do 12 mile marches every Friday when you were their intelligence officer?”

_Ah. So that’s where we’re going with this._

“No, we didn’t. And this is coming down from Strayer, Sink, or Horton as far as I’m aware.”

He heard Bull start to speak, but George Luz cut him off. “Can I cut in on this, sir? Ma’am?”

“Fine by me. Winters?” 

He glanced over his shoulder to look at her.“Sure, private.”

“This is all just because Lieutenant Sobel hates us. He just fuckin’ hates Easy Company.”

Dick frowned. His mother had raised him to respect women, and no one should ever swear around a lady. “Luz, watch the language.”

“It’s alright Lieutenant. I wouldn’t have survived OCS if I couldn’t handle the Army dialect. As for you Luz, I think you’ve got it all wrong.” The sound of her heels began to fade as she started back towards the ladies officers’ quarters near Battalion HQ. Dick found his eyes settling on her retreating frame.

“How’s that?” Luz called.

She turned and waltzed backwards with a grand sweep of her arms. “Lieutenant Sobel does not hate Easy Company, Sergeant Luz.” She paused to take one last, long drag of her cigarette before throwing it on the ground and stomping it out. Then she pointed at Luz. “He just hates you.”

The men laughed, Luz loudest of all. Even Dick couldn’t resist a small grin and a light chuckle.

“Goodnight Captain!” Luz shouted.

“Night boys.” Georgia’s smooth and distant voice floated back to them. 

_Yes, I’ve definitely got to get Lew to introduce me to her._


	2. Camp Toccoa, Georgia. Mid-November 1942

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter 2 folks! We get to see a bit more of what Georgia can do if she sets her mind to it, and how the men of Easy Company view her. Again, many thanks to @julianneday1701 and @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant on Tumblr for being the best beta readers I could ask for!

**_Camp Toccoa, Georgia. Mid-November 1942._ **

POV: Dick Winters

“Lieutenant Sobel!”

Dick turned to find the source of the call, as did Lew. Major Strayer’s runner hurried towards them.  _ What does Strayer want this late on a Friday? Shouldn’t he be on his way to Atlanta to meet up with his wife? _

“Sir, you still need to discuss the upcoming march to Atlanta with Major Horton and Major Strayer at Regimental HQ,” the runner said. “They’re waiting, along with Colonel Sink.”

Ah yes, the march to Atlanta. Captain Fenley had briefed Dick, Nix, and all the other officers in 2d Battalion about a week earlier. Sobel, rather than attend that briefing, had elected to scream at the men while they ran Currahee. Without meaning to, Dick found himself thinking about her.  _ For someone who only got promoted a month ago, she’s doing well.  _ In the time that had passed since his first encounter with Captain Georgia Fenley, Dick had only caught fleeting glimpses of her outside of meetings.  _ Well, there was the Officers’ Club a few weeks back.  _

Easy Company had miraculously managed to land a Saturday night off, and Nix had dragged him to the aforementioned club for something that was very far away from Dick’s definition of fun.  _ But she was there!  _ In that same green dress when she first walked with them on a night march, that same jeweled comb in her hair - which Nix had informed him was, in fact, made entirely of real diamonds - and that it had been imported especially from France.

“Understood, but tell the Majors it’ll have to wait. I need to lead Easy on their night march.”

A movement caught Dick’s eye. Peering into the darkness, he captured a few details. Captain’s bars on an overseas cap, Lucky Strikes in hand, red hair pinned neatly up.  _ Speak of the devil and he - well, she, in this case - shall appear. _

“I can handle the men if you’d like Captain. I’m finished with all my duties for the day and could use the fresh air,” the Captain said.

The crickets chirped gently as Easy Company stood at attention. The sun had long since set, and it had been a cloudless day. Without that cover, the heat of the day had quickly dissipated, leaving a cool breeze in its wake. As they stood in front of Easy’s barracks, Dick held a small hope that the weather would be this pleasant for the upcoming march.  _ Maybe a little cooler during the day? Especially since we have to carry all our extra gear that’s normally in the barracks during these night marches. _

  
Dick and Nix looked at each other. The latter furrowed his brow and looked back at Captain Fenley.

“Well,” Sobel hesitated, “all right.” He nodded to her and sat in the passenger side of the jeep. She nodded in return.

Dick looked at Captain Fenley again.  _ Even if she and Nix did grow up together, he still must have noticed how pretty she is. _ Georgia Fenley truly was gorgeous. A near lookalike for Rita Hayworth, she had doe-like brown eyes and bright auburn hair.  _ Dark fire.  _ Growing up, Dick’s mother had always described the bright orange curls of his hair as “pale fire.” Captain Fenley’s hair, by comparison, was like a bonfire standing out against a clear night sky. So was she, in a sense. Fierce, untamable, and all alone.

“ … mile circuit around the outside of the camp?”

“Excuse me?” Dick was shaken from his reverie by the subject of his thoughts giving him a look that could be described as judgemental intrigue. Like she was sizing him up, but she hadn’t made up her mind on him yet.

“You do a 12 mile circuit around the outside of the camp every Friday night, if I’m recalling things correctly?” Captain Fenley asked.

“Every Friday,” Nix grumbled.

“I didn’t ask you,” Captain Fenley said sassily.

Dick looked from Fenley to Nix, and back again before speaking.

“Yes ma’am. I should inform you though, Lieutenant Sobel doesn’t march with us. He meets the company back here around 00:30.” Dick said.

“Does he now,” she said slowly, “Interesting.” She took a deep breath and adjusted her flight jacket. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing that I’m not Lieutenant Sobel. Easy Company, attention!”

Nix snickered before complying, and Dick side-eyed him. Captain Fenley smiled and took a drag of her cigarette.

The men snapped to the position immediately. A pleased smile graced Captain Fenley’s features, and Dick felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.

“Route step, march!”

_ No cadence? Captain Fenley definitely isn’t Lieutenant Sobel, that’s for sure.  _

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

POV: Georgia Fenley

_ Son of a bitch. That fucking son of a bitch. The AUDACITY …  _ Georgia gritted her teeth. They had been out marching for nearly an hour and a half, and not one man had made a grab for his canteen. This was not going to keep happening, not on her watch.

“Lieutenant Winters, did Lieutenant Sobel order your company not to drink?”

Winters turned and raised a brow at her. His mouth opened, then closed. Lew elbowed him.  _ Jesus fucking Christ, it’s not that difficult. Just answer the goddamn question. _

Winters looked at her with a raised brow, and she saw other men’s postures change to reflect the surprise the company felt at her direct query. 

“Yes ma’am,” Winters said.

_ God fucking damnit. What the hell is this guy’s problem?  _ All of a sudden, Georgia smirked, and let out a small laugh.  _ Two can play at this game. _

“Consider that order overruled, Lieutenant. You and your men may drink for your canteens freely for the rest of the march.”

“Yes ma’am,” Winters said.

“What are you playing at?” Lew asked.

“If you needed to know, I’d tell you,” Georgia said.

Winters looked at her again; with what she couldn’t define. But he sighed, and turned back around.

“Whatever you say kid, whatever you say.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

POV: Dick Winters

The rest of the march was relatively abnormal. The men marched along in comfortable silence, sipping periodically from their canteens. Captain Fenley had smoked a cigarette or two, and traded snarky remarks back and forth with Nix.  _ They must have known each other a long while if they’ll just disregard the chain of command. _ No ma’am, no lieutenant, just “Lew” and “kid.”

“Captain Fenley?” someone called out.  _ Tab. Here we go.  _ Dick sighed and rubbed his eyes, then shifted his M-1 to his other shoulder.

“If you’ve got something to say trooper, then go ahead,” Captain Fenley answered

“Ma’am, why did you join the Airborne?”

Murmurs and whispers ran throughout the men.  _ Why did she join up? With looks like that, she could have any guy she wanted. _

“Why did any of us join the Airborne?” Captain Fenley asked.

Tab said, “To be the best.”

Captain Fenley smiled, and pulled out another cigarette. “There’s your answer then.”

“But ma’am,” Tab said, “I’ve heard that ladies are only joining the WASPs of the WAVES in order to find a husband.”

“Oh no,” Nix muttered.

Dick looked at his friend in confusion, but elected instead to shrug it off and take a drink of water from his canteen.

“Sergeant,” Captain Fenley began, “I don’t need a husband. I’ve already got a wallet, and I’m perfectly capable of changing a lightbulb by myself.”

The water Dick had been sipping suddenly ended up in his windpipe. As Nix cackled and the men laughed, he hacked violently with a smile on his face. Tab was red in the face, but Captain Fenley just laughed again as she took another drag of her cigarette.

“Understood ma’am,” Tab said, “but I’ll be here in case you change your mind.”

“I’ll keep that in mind Sergeant.”

The hours went by slowly, as they always did. At least this time wasn’t marked with parched throats and strict cadences. By the time the company got back to the main gate, though, Dick’s feet ached as usual.

_ Home sweet home. _ The march had been the best one yet with Captain Fenley commanding it. Easy Company approached Regimental HQ. Just one last leg of the march, and then bed. But then Dick saw him.

Sobel walked out of Regimental HQ, and catching a glimpse of Easy, made a beeline for them. 

_ Please don’t ruin this. Just let us have one march, one night. Just one, that’s all we want.  _ Sobel’s expression shifted rapidly. It went from recognition, to confusion, to anger.  _ Oh no. _

“What in the name of God are you doing with my company?” Sobel called while storming towards Captain Fenley. 

“Easy Company, halt!” She shouted. Then she turned to address Sobel. “Excuse me?”

“My men are walking out of step, drinking from their canteens, and God knows what else! You’re ruining their training!”

The tension was so thick he could have cut it with a trench knife. Sobel leaned over Captain Fenley, but she stood her ground. Dick recalled Nix’s words from almost a month earlier.  _ Tough as nails. _

“I gave those men the appropriate orders to do so, Lieutenant. They were acting under my command,” Captain Fenley said.

“Those men are not and never will be under your command, THEY ARE UNDER MINE!” Sobel shouted.

“LIEUTENANT SOBEL!” Colonel Sink’s voice boomed as he strode out of Regimental HQ with Strayer and Horton hot on his heels.

“Sir …” Sobel started.

“Lieutenant, that is no way to speak to a superior officer, let alone a lady. Consider your weekend pass revoked. Now go back to your barracks.”

“Yes sir,” Sobel saluted and turned to Captain Fenley, “ma’am.”

“Lieutenant.” She did not return his salute. Then she turned to Colonel Sink.“Thank you for intervening sir, I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem at all, Georgia,” Sink said as he laid a hand on her shoulder, “You go on and get some sleep.”

Captain Fenley nodded, “I will sir, as soon as I dismiss the men.”

“Alright now,” Sink said, walking back towards Regimental HQ. “Oh, Georgia? If Lieutenant Sobel gives you any more grief, you bring it straight to me and I’ll handle it.”

“Understood sir. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Georgia.”

_ What on earth was that?  _ Dick Winters may not have been as socially adept as his best friend, but he still felt as though he wasn’t getting the whole story on what had just transpired between his CO and the Captain.

Captain Fenley turned back to Easy. “Company dismissed, go get some rest.”

The men were surprised by her choice not to review them before sending them off, but they weren’t about to complain. They began to fall out as Captain Fenley took out her half-finished pack of Lucky Strikes. Dick looked back towards Nix, and saw his best friend’s eyes widen as an impressed smile crossed his face.

“Georgia Fenley, you’re absolutely awful. You know that? You’re awful, a real goddamn fox,” Nix said.

Captain Fenley looked up at Nix. “Am I now?”

Nix gave her an incredulous look. “You damn well are, Georgia!”

“Might I ask what exactly you two are talking about?” Dick asked.

Nix turned to him, and Captain Fenley smirked.

“Georgia here decided to ignore Sobel’s standard orders on the night march, knowing full well how much that would piss him off, while also knowing full well who would be within earshot when the powder keg blew,” Lew said.

Dick’s eyes widened. “You knew Sink would hear and step in?”

Captain Fenley stood and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Winters, when a good opportunity comes your way, never waste it. I may not have gotten Sobel fired, but I got him a bad rep with Sink. That might be useful later.” She pushed past them both and began walking back towards her own barracks. “Night boys,” she called. 

“She’s one hell of a woman,” said Nix. 

_ You’re not wrong there, Nix. Not wrong at all. _


	3. Camp Toccoa, Georgia. Saturday November 28th, 1942.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter 3! I'm posting it a day early because I'm very happy with it 😊 as always, thank you to Julianne and Angelica for being lovely beta readers!

**_Camp Toccoa, Georgia. Saturday, November 28th, 1942._ **

Nothing too substantial had happened in the past couple of weeks. Weekend passes had been revoked, night maneuvers conducted, and necessary preparations made for the march to Atlanta. Now, it was the endgame. 

It was a chilly morning a day or two after Thanksgiving, and Dick’s heart was pounding. His breathing was ragged, his legs cramping, but he wouldn’t give up. Not with the current stakes. Colonel Sink had arranged a decathlon - an athletic competition between all current and former company level officers in the 506th to see who would be jumpmaster of the first stick of officers to jump at Fort Benning, and which company would be jumping first. 

The first stage was running Currahee. Dick’s heart pounded in his chest as the trees flew by. Last time he’d checked, Captain Fenley had been hot on his tail. Now, as he descended the hill, he felt a slight pang of fear. That pang quickly transitioned from a dull ache in his legs to sharp pain.  _ No, no, no, my legs can’t be cramping now. This is not happening.  _ Dick looked down the hill and relaxed a little.  _ Only 200 yards to go. _ He tried to push through, but the pain in his legs was making it difficult. He gritted his teeth and tried to push through, but it was too late. There she was again. 

Her red hair was perfectly pinned into an army-approved bun, and her face was bare of any makeup. With the lack of face powder and rouge, Dick noticed how naturally pretty she was. Days in the sun had brought out a few freckles, and given her skin a natural rosy glow.  _ Focus, you idiot! You need to win this for Easy Company. _

As the cramping in Dick’s legs worsened, Captain Fenley sprinted past him. Dick managed to come in second, but the damage to Easy Company’s ego was visible plain as day on the mens’ faces. As other officers trickled in, Dick put his hands on his knees and slumped over in an attempt to catch his breath. Something moved into the edge of his field of vision. Someone, actually.

It was Captain Fenley. She was breathing hard, and her face was red. She held out her right hand to Dick. He took it in his own, and the two shook hands. She flashed a bright, genuine smile that Dick promptly returned.  _ Maybe she’s not just some stuck-up rich girl who wants to play G.I. Joe... _

From Currahee, the competing officers proceed to the P.T. area. Next on the docket for the decathlon was the most push ups, then the most chin-ups, and the competition ended with the fastest time on the obstacle course.

The push-ups and chin-ups were easy for Dick. He was by far the best physically fit man in Easy, and gave everyone else in the 506th a hell of a run for their money. He beat every other officer in both of those events. Dick smiled to himself.  _ You can do it. Just one more event. _

The name of the game was speed and agility. On the obstacle course, strength was irrelevant. All a soldier needed to do was be faster than everyone else, and then they had a shot at winning. As Dick raced through the course, he suddenly groaned. A flash of red hair, heavy breathing, big brown eyes. Captain Fenley was right next to him.

Dick willed himself to run faster, and so did Captain Fenley. The two ran neck-in-neck through the course, bobbing and weaving. Then came the end. The ten-foot wall, and just beyond it, a rope climb.

Captain Fenley jumped first. She was shorter than Dick by almost half a foot, so she needed to jump earlier to compensate. She caught the wall with her palms and hauled herself up, and was over and running by the time Dick reached the top. They reached the climbing ropes a second apart, but that was enough.

Captain Fenley pulled herself up the rope at lightning speed, gritting her teeth against the burning on her hands. She reached the top, and let herself slide back down. As she jogged over to Sink, Strayer, and Horton, Dog Company cheered.

Enlisted and officers crowded around her with smiles, and Lieutenant Speirs clapped a hand on her back. She was smiling, and Colonel Sink was regarding her with pride. Dick shook his head and walked back towards Easy.

Colonel Sink had given everyone the rest of the day off in preparation for the march to Atlanta. The forecast for those three days had been the latest subject of grumbling in the mornings at the officers’ mess. Light snow, light rain, temperatures below freezing at night.  _ Well, that’s just dandy.  _

As Dick walked back towards Easy’s officers’ barracks, the men he passed smiled at him sympathetically. He could tell what they were all thinking. _Losing to a woman? The horror, the humiliation!_ But not Dick. From the moment he could understand, his Mennonite-raised mother had instilled within him a deep respect for women, and that carried over to Army officers as well. Now, he put Captain Fenley out of his mind, and focused on greeting Nix and enjoying his last hot shower before the upcoming march.

The water in the shower was warm and gentle, and Dick enjoyed it immensely. After shaving and putting on his Ike jacket uniform, he walked back to the barracks to pomade his hair. The cool afternoon air gently stirred the orange and red leaves on the ground that crunched beneath his feet. The crunches gave way to soft thunks as he entered the barracks.

Nix looked up from his flask to acknowledge Dick. “Nice shower?”

“Yes,” Dick answered absentmindedly, searching for his hair pomade. Finding it below some spare undershirts in his footlocker, he turned to face the window. Only the female paratroopers had the luxury of mirrors, something about ‘keeping up appearances.’  _ Why do these women need to look pretty all of the time? They’re soldiers, not magazine cover girls. _

“So, have you talked to Georgia yet? You really should, she’ll like you,” Nix said.

“Lew, I don’t really think that’s appropriate for a pair of Army Airborne officers,” Dick huffed.

“For Christ’s sake, I didn’t mean it like that. Besides, she’s got some guy in the 82nd to keep her occupied. I think his name’s John.”

Dick nodded. “82nd, huh? Is he in North Africa?”

“Yes, he shipped out back in October, right after she got promoted to Battalion. He’s been writing to her though. She even writes him back.”

“I assume this conversation is about me?”

Dick and Nix’s heads snapped to the doorway. In it stood Captain Fenley, hair freshly styled and cigarette freshly lit. Her makeup was standard enough, consisting only of powder, rogue, and lipstick. The main thing Dick noticed was her ring and her watch. Both were clearly expensive, and featured gold as their main color.

“Perfect guess as always, G,” Nix said. He stood and Captain Fenley entered. As the man beckoned Dick over, he placed a hand high up on Captain Fenley’s back and gently guided her towards Dick.

“Georgia Fenley, Dick Winters. Dick Winters, Georgia Fenley.”

Captain Fenley reached out her hand, and Dick shook it firmly.

“Ma’am,” he said.

“Oh god, no,” Captain Fenley said as her eyes widened, “Just call me Georgia.”

“Alright,” Dick said. “You initially trained with Dog Company, if I recall correctly.”

“You do. I was a platoon leader and intelligence officer, but Sink took a shine to me and moved me to Battalion HQ,” Georgia said, raising her Lucky Strike back to her lips after she finished speaking. In the rapidly failing daylight, the glow of the cigarette cast a faint light about her face.

“The men must have been sad to see you go,” Dick offered, trying to ease the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but he could feel Georgia’s gaze resting on him. He didn’t like being the center of attention.

“Yes, some of them. Others got drunk in celebration, but that’s just how it goes sometimes.”

Dick nodded, and raised his eyes to meet hers. He had tried staring out the window, at his bed, at the floor, and the wall, but none of it helped. But Georgia’s eyes were kind. Like she knew more and had seen more than she’d ever tell, but still tender-hearted. But there was darkness beneath the brown too; cynicism he recognized from Nix.

“What, have I been forgotten?” Lew asked.

He had, at least by Dick. Georgia seemed painfully aware of everything, which he supposed would be helpful as an intelligence officer. But Dick had been thoroughly focused on unraveling the odd look in Georgia’s eyes that he had managed to push his best friend’s presence from his mind.

“Of course you have Lew. What do I need you for? I’ve got Dick now,” Georgia said with a playful smile and tilt of her head.

Dick’s cheeks flush pink, and he ducked his head down to hide his own slight smile.

“Alright, cut it out. I’m hungry, let’s go hit the officers’ mess,” Nix said. Georgia nodded and exited first, her jump boots clunky across the floorboards. Dick followed, and the scent of fresh-cut pine gradually gave way to crisp evening air.

As they walked, Georgia turned to Dick. “Cigarette?” She held out her pack to him.

“No, thank you,” Dick said, “I don’t smoke.”

“Interesting,” Georgia nodded, “are you abstaining on religious or moral grounds?”

“Nix would say one of those two, but in reality I just don’t like them. The smell can be a bit much sometimes.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” Georgia said as she hastily threw her Lucky Strike to the ground, “I didn’t even think to ask.”

“Nix never does,” Dick mumbled quietly with an almost imperceptible roll of his eyes.

“I’m not Nix,” she said firmly, “and if it bothers you then I won’t do it.”

“Thanks,” Dick said, “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

Dick knew they were both dancing around what he and Nix had been discussing earlier, so he decided to just bite the bullet and ask.

“Nix says you have a friend in the 82nd?”

Georgia flushed. Tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, she nodded and spoke up again.

“His name’s Johnny. He’s a company commander in the 509th. Went from England to North Africa about three weeks ago.”

“Do you miss seeing him? Nix said you’re writing, but I know it’s not really the same,” Dick said.

“Yes, I do miss seeing him. We weren’t too serious, but I still enjoyed it a lot. And I agree, writing isn’t the same. Especially not in this case, if you understand my meaning.”

“Oh.” Dick’s cheeks flamed, and he mentally kicked himself.  _ You should’ve kept your mouth shut Dick. _

“It’s alright, we’re both adults. Besides, I don’t give any of the details to anyone besides Blanche. Blanche is Lew’s little sister, by the way.”

“Alright. Well, I’m going to go sit with Nix,” Dick said. 

“Sure. It was nice to meet you, Dick.” She stuck out her hand once more.

Dick took it and let a small smile form as he met her gaze. “It was nice to meet you as well, Georgia.”

They parted, her walking towards Lieutenant Speirs from Dog Company, and him towards Nix.

“So,” his dark-haired friend began, “what do you think of her?”

“She’s something else, that’s for sure.”

“Not your typical Army type, huh?” 

Dick huffed amiably. “Not at all. She’s smart though.”  _ Very smart.  _ But she didn’t let it show. It was only evident when you spoke to her - and when you analyzed her intelligence work, Dick supposed. However, there was still something nagging at him about her. Nothing bad, but it felt like her phrases were too perfect, her smiles too friendly.  _ Like one of the Romanovs’ lost fabergé eggs.  _ A gilded masterpiece. Look past the exquisite first layer, and perhaps find something rather unexpected.


	4. Georgia. Tuesday, December 1st, 1942.

**_Georgia. Tuesday, December 1st, 1942._ **

The march to Atlanta had started off about as well as one would expect: delays getting the men organized, tearful goodbyes from local women, and lots of Army bureaucracy. The first few miles went well, but soon enough, it had started to snow. At first it was beautiful. Crisp air, small flakes, fading winter light. But the beauty didn’t last. The temperature rose slightly, and the snow turned partially to rain and soaked the terrain and the men thoroughly. As Dick was marching forward and moping, Georgia appeared at his side.

“Seven miles down, one-hundred-eleven to go,” she said. She bumped her shoulder into his and flashed a smile. Dick gave her a small smile back.  _ Thrust into the light.  _

He cleared his throat, shifted his gear, and then spoke. “Any news from Major Horton?” he asked.

The soft snow muffled their voices and footsteps, and caught in Georgia’s hair. “Not really, I just wanted something to do that wasn’t standing there and looking pretty. So, I volunteered to come check in on our leading company.”

“Well,” Dick began, “nothing too interesting up here at the moment. Just singing our CO’s praises, as always.”

Georgia’s laugh was bright. “Lew’s a liar,” she said, “you do have a sense of humor, and better one than he does, at that.”

“Thanks,” Dick said, burrowing deeper into his army-issued coat. Despite the layers he wore, the frigid December wind still cut through, right into his bones.

“Are you alright, Dick?”

“What?” He looked over, and saw a flash of concern on Georgia’s face. “Oh, I’m fine. Just a little cold is all.”

“You, cold?” She asked humorously. “Come Dick, it’s a joke. The northern boy, getting all cold during a southern winter? Hell, if anyone should be getting cold it’s me.” 

“I’ve always been like this,” Dick mused, “even when I was a kid back home.”

“Pennsylvania, right?”

“Yes, Lancaster. You said you’re from the south?”

“Technically,” Georgia stated. “I grew up in Norfolk Virginia, spent some holidays in New Jersey, made the odd trip to Europe, and went to finishing school in New York City.” She finished the list of her childhood playgrounds with a surprising nonchalance that made Dick feel suddenly naïve, and like he shouldn’t have asked.

“Oh,” he said softly as he looked away, pretending to check on the men and few women marching around them.

“Dick, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you at all -”

“It’s not your fault,” he started, “you just looked like you didn’t want to discuss where you grew up.”

“To be honest, I don’t.” Georgia said with a soft finality.

“Alright,” Dick said. He turned his head to face forward, and the two marched in companionable silence. Every once in a while, Dick would catch Georgia looking at him, but with what he couldn’t discern. He still had that vague feeling that she was sizing him up, but not in a romantic or sexual way. To be fair, he was too. After all, the intelligence she’d gather in combat could either save or end the lives of many paratroopers including Dick. She was too young for that level of responsibility, but that could also be said for many of the men in Dick’s platoon. You could even say the same thing about Dick himself. All of them were about to lose years in this war that they could never get back.

Shaking the dark topic from his mind with a violent shiver, he caught Georgia opening her mouth to speak.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, Dick.”

“Well, I can’t exactly do anything about it at the moment, can I Georgia?” Dick huffed.

Georgia raised her hands in mock surrender, said “Fair enough,” and continued walking beside him in silence.

Dick thought back to his first meetings with her. She seemed confident, smart, and unlikely to take bull from anyone. Not a typical Army girl, but here she was. And not really a girl either, he supposed. She looked younger than him, but definitely past eighteen. However, he couldn’t figure out her eyes. When he gazed into them, it was as she’d seen enough to fill a thousand lifetimes. They were deep brown, with hints of copper.

“Captain Fenley?” A voice cut through the winter quiet, sharp against the peace of nature. “Ma’am, Major Strayer’s asking for you.”

“Of course he is,” Georgia muttered, then spoke louder so the sentry could hear her. “I’ll be along in a moment.” Turning to Dick, she said, “Catch up with you later?”

“Sure.” He smiled. Georgia nodded, then turned and began to walk back towards Battalion HQ. As she faded away, Dick heard Nix call out to her.

“Hey, your highness! Come to slum it with us regular old peasants, have you?”

Dick didn’t hear Georgia reply, but he did hear Nix swear in a manner his Navy grandfather certainly would have approved of. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Nix clutching his shin, and Georgia continuing her trek back to Strayer and Horton.

The rest of the march passed without much of an event, just worsening cold. After hitting their forty-fourth mile, the Battalion began to settle in for the night. Dick was fussing over his and Nix’s shared tent when Georgia appeared out of the fog, carrying a large bundle in her arms, along with all of her gear.

“Hey,” she said, walking towards the tent. “Do you mind if I bunk with you?”

“No,” Dick said, “but why aren’t you up with the other second Battalion officers?”

“Because they all look at me like a nice sirloin steak sitting on a platter at a restaurant, and it makes me even more uncomfortable when we’re practically alone in the middle of the woods.” She said matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” Dick said, blushing furiously and stumbling over his words, “alright.”

“Don’t fret too much, Army boy. I’m a big girl, I’ll be able to hold my own. It’s just a matter of comfort.”

Dick nodded, then lifted up the tent flap and allowed Georgia to come in. Still thinking about the reason for her arrival, Dick elected to keep his eyes averted and shuffle through his own belongings.

Georgia hummed softly as she spread out her bedroll and organized her things. Out of the corner of his eye, Dick saw her swing her carbine off her shoulder and flip out the stock. She checked that the gun was empty and the safety was on, and then proceeded to close the folding stock and set the weapon down next to her bedroll.

As the two continued to work, Dick suddenly recognized the song she was humming. It was an Irving Berlin tune, out of that movie of his that had been released at the New York City theaters in August.

“May your days be merry and bright,” Dick sang softly as Georgia hummed.

Georgia smiled at him, and her own clear voice rang out. “And may all your Christmases be white.”

Content, the two danced around each other in an effort to adjust the tent to their own liking. Finally finished, Georgia plopped down on her bedroll with a huff.

“Oh, I forgot!” She cried, turning to dig through the bundle she’d brought in with her. “This is for you, I snatched it up from Battalion when Strayer wasn’t looking.”

It was a blanket, along with a thermos and an extra pair of socks. “You didn’t have to do this Georgia. I don’t want you to get in any trouble on my account.”

That got a chuckle out of her. “Dick, please. Colonel Sink thinks of me as an adopted daughter, Horton likes me as an intelligence officer, and Strayer won’t go against either of them. It’s perfectly fine. Besides, it’s the best I can do to help out a friend.”

Dick smiled at that. “In that case, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Besides, any friend of Lew’s is a friend of mine.”

Nix chose that moment to enter the tent. “G, you hate most of my other friends.”

“Most of your other friends aren’t functioning Quakers, Lew.”

Dick looked at the two. They bickered jovially, familiarly even, as if their friendly arguments were part of a regular routine the two had. Shaking his head, Dick turned his attention to the thermos Georgia had brought. As he twisted off the lid, his senses were pleasantly assaulted by the scent of hot black coffee. Looking at Georgia as if to say “thank you”, Dick took a sip. It was warm, and better tasting than what he usually got. When he lowered the thermos, he caught Georgia looking at him with a pleased smile on her face.

After that, the three of them chatted lightly, and Nix and Georgia played cards. Occasionally, one of them would swear when the other had a better hand. And, as the light of day faded, they burrowed into their respective sleeping bags, and ended up at the present moment.

“It’s so cold out here.” Dick tried to stop shivering, but his efforts were in vain.

“Excellent observation Lieutenant Winters. That last name of yours must have given you some special powers related to weather perception.”

“If you two would kindly  _ shut the hell up _ , I’d be able to sleep right now, and not feel the cold.” Georgia’s voice left no room for discussion.

“Sorry Georgia.”

“Thank you Dick.”

Dick looked out of the corner of his eye, and saw Georgia burrowing deeper beneath her blankets. He could barely make out the glint of her hair in the faint light within the tent. She had come down from the Battalion HQ officers’ camp an hour or so ago, searching out Nix and himself. That was new to him, even though it was starting to happen more and more. 

Dick wasn’t used to that. He was always content to sit in the shadows, to operate without hope of recognition. However, being around Georgia meant being in the spotlight. Wherever she went, no matter what the time, heads always turned when Georgia walked by. People whispered, too. How she and Nix were able to stand it, Dick would never. Now, as Dick shifted deeper beneath his own blankets, he looked back on how he had gotten himself into this particular mess.

Really, it was all Georgia’s fault. But not really, at the same time. Being a Rita Hayworth look-alike must mean one receives an excessive amount of stares from the male populus.

“What are you thinking, Red?”

Dick groaned. “Are you seriously going to call me Red?”

“Why not,” Georgia said. “You can call me Red too, if you want.”

“Alright Red. I’m just thinking, you know?”

“Yes, I get it. Letting your mind wander, relax, so on and so forth.”

“Yes,” Dick said. He wanted to keep up the conversation, but his eyes were growing heavy.

Georgia smiled again. “Go to sleep, Dick. I’ll make sure Herr Black Swan doesn’t wander in.”

“You know about that?” He murmured.

“I’m the intelligence officer, remember? Of course I know.”

“Alright.” He paused and sighed contentedly. “Goodnight Red.”

That got a laugh, which she quickly smothered in her pillow when Nix stirred. “Sleep well, Red.”

  
  



	5. Georgia. Wednesday, December 2nd, 1942.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lack of updates recently! I'm finally getting into a workable rhythm with school, so I am now back to updating on Fridays! Happy day everyone, and thank you to Julianne for beta reading

**_Georgia. Wednesday, December 2nd, 1942._ **

Georgia stirred. She rolled over and slowly blinked open her eyes. In front of her, Lew was passed out clutching a pillow. Comfortable as always. To her right, Dick was lying on his back and breathing steadily, red hair fluffed around messily. 

Inhaling deeply, Georgia pushed herself up and off of her bedroll. Groping around the tent for her boots and coat, in the pre-dawn light, she swore quietly when her foot collided with the butt of Lew’s carbine. 

Finally ready and slightly awake, Georgia pushed the tent flap aside and walked out into the cold morning air. Finally, some quiet.

It had frosted hard overnight, and the ground crunched beneath Georgia’s feet. In front of her, the sun was just beginning to rise. Smiling softly, she leaned against a tree and pulled out a cigarette. She breathed deeply, the cold air a welcome shock.

As she stood there, the sky changed from black to pale bluish-purple and was eventually filled with a vibrant rainbow as the sun emerged. She simply stood for a while, breathing deeply, and watching the world come to life. She pulled out a fresh pack of Lucky Strikes, took her lighter to the end of a cigarette, and took a long drag.

There was a rustling behind her, and Georgia whirled around. 

“Sorry,” Dick said as he emerged from the tent, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It's alright,” Georgia said. Dick walked up and stood a few feet from her. His hair was slightly nearer than it had been when he was asleep, and he was still wracked by the occasional shiver. 

“Damn, let me put this out,” she said, throwing it down and twisting it into the ground.

“Thanks,” said Dick.. “It’s a shame you had to waste it though.”

“Oh please, I’m sure some of the other captains would prove extremely willing to help me acquire this particular commodity.”

Dick smiled. “On another note, I would’ve thought a debutante such as yourself would sleep in a little later,” he said. 

“I would’ve thought your sense of humor only came around after coffee.”

Dick huffed a small laugh, and Georgia smiled. The two sat there in companionable silence until Dick next spoke. 

“In all seriousness, why are you up so early. We’ve got a while before we have to pack up camp.”

Georgia sighed, and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I like the quiet. I like being able to stop and just exist for a little bit. I always have.”

Dick nodded. “I understand.”

A few snowflakes began to drift down, and the frosted ground glittered in the morning light. 

“You would, Red. Being from a farm and all-”

“And here I thought I was going to like you better than Nix-”

“You take that back right now-”

As Easy Company stirred to life, they were met with the soft laughter of the redheaded pair standing beneath a towering pine tree. 

The camp was broken, and the battalion marched on. The final tally of the day was forty miles of rain, mud, and cursing everything the Lord had ever created. The tents were pitched, and Georgia made her appearance around nine-thirty.

“Hey,” Nix said, “how’s HQ?”

Georgia shrugged. “Same old, same old. I see you boys finally managed to get a fire going.”

“We did,” Nix said with a smile and a bump to Dick’s shoulder. “Mister Pennsylvania here is very handy with that sort of thing.”

“Oh, I can imagine. How’s your day been, Red?”

“Oh, just fine,” Dick said sarcastically. “Absolutely dandy on all fronts.”

“Well, since you gents had such a good day, I guess I’ll just have to keep this for myself,” she said.

“Well, let’s not be too hasty there G -” Nix began.

“Wait, Georgia -” Dick said.

“Jesus Christ, calm yourselves. I don’t think I could drink all of this soup before it cools even if I tried.” She laughed.

The two men smiled as she pulled out three thermoses and passed them out. Spirits were miraculously raised as the day’s rain continued to putter softly against the tent. After an hour or so of light conversation, the three settled down for the night.

“I hate this mud,” Georgia murmured.

“Yeah, me too,” Lew said.

Georgia sighed. “Night, boys.”

“Night G.”

“Goodnight, Georgia.”

When Georgia stirred on the morning of Thursday, December fourth, she swore. Her sleeping bag had frozen solid into the mud overnight. Still swearing quietly, she read over and grabbed Dick’s Garand. She slammed it down against the edges of her sleeping bag, smiling when the ice broke.

Behind her, Dick rolled over and mumbled. 

“Go back to sleep, Red,” Georgia said as she pulled on her boots. She packed up her gear and slung her rifle over her shoulder. Taking one last look at the tent, she turned on her heel and walked out into the cold December morning.

The rest of the day went rather uneventfully, and the Battalion finally reached Atlanta. The men and women marched down Peachtree Street to Five Points, in the city center. There were lots of reporters and photographers, and Georgia was back in her childhood element.  _ Shake hands, smile, nod, and on to the next.  _ She saw Dick marching with Easy out of the corner of her eye, and she nodded to him.

Out of nowhere, a hand tapped Georgia’s shoulder. She tensed and gritted her teeth, but then reset her expression to a more neutral one as she turned around.    
  


It was one of Sink’s staff officers. “Captain, I’ve got a letter here for you from a battalion XO in the 509th.” He held it out to her.

Georgia paused, then took the letter. “Thank you,” she said, turning and walking away. She tore open the envelope delicately, then unfolded the paper within.

  
  


**November 28th, 1942**

**Attn: Cpt G Fenley, 2nd Bttn, 506th PIR, 101 Dvn.**

**Captain:**

**It was brought to my attention that you were quite close to Captain John Carter, one of my company commanders. I regret to inform you that he was killed in action at** **\----------------** **yesterday morning. I’m very sorry for your loss.**

**Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Mason, XO**

**2nd Bttn, 509th PIR, 82nd Dvn**

Georgia couldn’t breathe. She needed to sit down, she needed to be alone. She pushed her way through the crowd of soldiers making their way to the train station. Where was Lew? Lew could help, he always knew how to help her. Someone said her name, but she didn’t care. Her boots stirred up clouds of dust as she marched off. Whoever it was shouted again, but Georgia just kept on walking, until she couldn’t see anyone beside her. She blocked out the conversations of the soldiers behind her, but she couldn’t miss the footsteps.

“Hey, Georgia,” Dick said. “You ran off pretty fast.”

“Yes, I did.” she countered. She didn’t look at Dick but instead listened for the trains they should have been boarding.

Dick looked at her, unsure. “Are you alright?” His blue eyes held genuine concern. Her brown ones held neither answers nor emotion. Just neutrality.

Georgia smiled the same way she always did. “Perfectly fine, Red.”

“Alright,” Dick said, “Then I guess I’ll head back.”

“I’ll join you,” Georgia said. The two walked back towards the train station. The cool air and lack of men cleared Georgia’s head well enough that she wouldn’t break character around anyone that mattered. She’d talk to Lew later. He’d understand, he always did.

Second Battalion boarded the trains to Fort Benning in perfect Army order. Later that night, Georgia padded over to Lew's compartment. She knocked on the wall, and the door opened.

“Hey, it’s late,” said Lew. He looked at Georgia intently, noting the tension in her shoulders and her clenched fists. “Come in, siddown.”

Georgia nodded, and stepped inside. She paced the room for a few moments, before turning to look at Lew. He was leaning against the door shaking his head.

“What happened, G?”

“He’s dead.”


	6. Monday, December 1942. Fort Benning, Georgia.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fort Benning was certainly a step up from Camp Toccoa. The new barracks still smelled of freshly cut pine, and it reminded her of visiting Lew in New Jersey when she was a girl. Memories of fur coats and painstakingly pinned curls filled her mind. They’d gone to visit in January, not too long after her birthday. Her father had mentioned wanting to see the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, my friends! As always, thank you to Julianne for beta reading 💙 enjoy, and feel free to leave a comment!

**_Monday, December 1942. Fort Benning, Georgia._ **

Fort Benning was certainly a step up from Camp Toccoa. The new barracks still smelled of freshly cut pine, and it reminded her of visiting Lew in New Jersey when she was a girl. Memories of fur coats and painstakingly pinned curls filled her mind. They’d gone to visit in January, not too long after her birthday. Her father had mentioned wanting to see the snow.

Georgia walked over to the window and glanced out. No snow now, despite it being December. But that was the south, Georgia knew. After one last across the muddy landscape, Georgia turned back to her bed. Due to the extreme lack of ladies in the 506th, all of the female officers bunked together regardless of assignment. Georgia had picked a second-floor cot near the window so she could wake up early to see the sunrise. 

She took her carbine and set it in her assigned slot on the rifle rack, after checking that the safety was on and the gun was empty. She turned back to her cot and smoothed out the blankets, before stooping down to open her footlocker. She pulled out some lipstick and turned to the mirror. It presented the perfect reflection. Tucking the lipstick into her pocket, she jogged down the steps and out into the world.

The next week at Fort Benning went by like a lightning bolt, there one minute and gone the next. Intense physical training had continued to whip the Regiment into parachute infantry shape. Runs, jumps, obstacle courses, and towers.

That had been a breeze after all of Sink’s training at Toccoa. She remembered running up Currahee chatting with Sparky and making jokes with the soldiers in her platoon. She liked intelligence, but Georgia did miss being a platoon leader now and again.

One of her most memorable moments at Fort Benning had been the early move to tower week. After only two days, the cadre of men in charge of their official airborne training had decided that the regiment didn’t need a week of physical training. This had led to tremendous pride among the men and women of the five-oh-sixth, which bled out through excessive alcohol consumption, excessive singing at god-awful hours, and numerous shouts of Currahee.

Thursday night after showering, Georgia collapsed onto her bed and groaned.

“What’s your problem?” one of the ladies called.

“I still have to pin up my hair, I’m planning on going out tomorrow night.”

She was met with a sharp laugh. “That sounds like a problem for you.”

“I’m well aware.”

She stood up and opened her footlocker, pulling out a small box of pins, as well as her favorite pin curl pattern and a silk scarf. As she started brushing out her hair, one of the women put a record on. It Trav’lin Light, a new Billie Holiday tune. Georgia hummed along softly, occasionally consulting the pattern next to her. Billie Holiday turned into Glenn Miller, which turned into Vera Lynn. Some songs she knew and some she didn’t, but she relaxed into the music as she twisted and pinned her hair.

Finally done, she tied the scarf over her hair before snuggling beneath her blankets. When she’d stayed with the Nixons in New Jersey, Georgia had slept beneath a feather tick. It had been a warm, soft weight that had lulled her to sleep quickly. She’d woken up early, and then Lew had opened her window so that she could see the sunrise unobscured, and feel the cool air on her face.

She let the happy memory put her to rest.

On Friday, Georgia had  _ finally  _ convinced Dick to dance with her. His skills were a bit lacking, but Georgia was confident that she could whip him into acceptable shape for any southern lady in no time. After a while, she’d even gotten him smiling, which had been the highlight of her evening.

The next day, Reveille came soon enough. Each day after that was relatively the same over the next few weeks. Physical training bled into jump harnesses and tall towers and officers were made to acquaint themselves with motorcycles and horses. 

She excelled at that. Well, the horseback riding at least. When the other officers had been skittish around their horses, Georgia was a natural. She had led her mare in a gallop around the open field.

Georgia had learned to ride horses out at her grandparents’ estate in the country. As far back she could recall, her mother’s parents had adored her. She twisted the ring on her finger. Her mother’s mother had given it to her when she debuted in Norfolk society. She’d been sixteen then.

The ring was Georgia’s favorite piece of jewelry she owned. It had three stones - a central emerald, and two white diamonds beside it. There were small twisted engravings on the sides as well, and the band was gold. Later back at the barracks, smiling to herself, Georgia adjusted the band ever so slightly. She missed that farm in the countryside, she missed that girl who would ride horses from dawn to dusk.

Sighing, Georgia knelt to unlace her boots. It was late, she was tired, and tomorrow promised to be equally busy. Georgia took a silk scarf and tied it over her hair, and changed out of her uniform. She laid down on her bed and ran a hand over her face, before climbing beneath the covers. She fell asleep to the sound of the logs crackling in the pot-bellied stove in the center of the room.

The next day, they moved from the forty-foot towers to the two-hundred-fifty foot towers. For the first time since joining the Airborne, Georgia got a sense of what it would be like to jump. It was dizzyingly exciting, as well as incredibly terrifying. Was this what Marian had felt like when she first jumped?

The rumor that had been persisting since the regiment’s arrival at Fort Benning been that the five-oh-sixth would be starting their five qualification jumps during the last week of December and the beginning of January. Miraculously, it worked out that they started jumping a week earlier. 

The morning of her first jump, it was cloudless and frigid. Georgia had been the last to board the plane. She sat stock-still throughout most of the flight, except for her shaking leg. She repeatedly checked her watch and reviewed the plan for the jump mentally. Georgia knew what to do, of that she was most certain.

Georgia was shaken back to reality by the red light and the Sergeant-Airborne’s shouting. She could see their planned drop zone ahead in the distance. Everything was going as planned.

“Stand up!”

Stand. Georgia stared down the Sergeant. Her face revealed nothing, and neither did his.

“Hook up!”

_ Click.  _ The red light was still blazing, and Georgia was still shaking. The next few minutes would determine whether or not she was destined to make something of herself in the Airborne.

“Equipment check!” She felt hands on her gear.

“Sound off for equipment check!” She heard the cries. 

“Twelve okay!” She could see the empty fields below the plane.

“Eleven okay!” The wind whipped through the open doorway.

“Ten okay!” It was so loud, she couldn’t hear herself think.

“Nine okay!” How could the Sergeant be so relaxed?

“Eight okay!” She thought he was from the 82nd.

“Seven okay!” Sink had been in the 82d.

“Six okay!” The sky was still cloudless. The grass blew like waves in the field below.

“Five okay!” Sobel.

“Four okay!” Dick.

“Three okay!” Lew.

“Two okay!” Sparky.

“One okay!” Georgia screamed. She was surprised by the sound of her voice. It was steadier than she’d been expecting.

The light changed to green.

“Go!” The sergeant shouted. Georgia’s hands gripped the sides of the door. She flung herself out in an instant, not even stopping to think.

_ One thousand.  _ Time was slowing down.

_ Two thousand.  _ Georgia felt weightless.

_ Three thousand.  _ She was falling in the most exquisite manner ever.

_ Four thousand.  _ She was laughing.

Her main chute deployed with a violent jerk that made her grit her teeth. Her reserve swayed peacefully in front of her. 

She kept her eyes level with the horizon, just like she’d been taught. Before she knew it, her feet hit solid ground. She let the impact roll her across the ground until she could come up on one knee and gather her chute into her arms. As she did so, Georgia felt a massive grin start to form on her face. She’d done it. Just four more, and then she’d be a fully qualified captain of the 101st Airborne Division. She wondered what her mother would say, and she laughed.

The next three jumps went off without a hitch. Jump four of five took place the morning of Christmas Eve, and the enlisted of Georgia’s old company jumped that afternoon.

“Hey boys,” said Georgia.

“Hey! Look who’s come back back to slum it with the rest of us plebeians,” one trooper said.

“Don’t use fancy words, Sparky can’t grasp their meanings.”

Sparky turned to face her. “You sure about that?” he asked.

“Oh, most definitely.”

Sparky Speirs laughed, and Georgia smiled.

“Watch your back, Fenley,” he said.

Georgia feigned surprise. “How dare you.”

She strolled past the men and women, nodding and joking lightly. She saw Lew and Dick standing to the side, and she walked over.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to joke around with subordinates like that?” Dick asked.

“Dick, you’re technically my subordinate,” Georgia deadpanned. “Besides, I trained with them at Toccoa.”

“Well, it’s different with Nix and me.”

“How?”

He paused, sensing that his argument was falling through. “You have a point.”

“I do indeed.”

Lew looked at the pair and rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his flask. The three began to walk around the base, just for the sake of walking in the cool winter air.

Lew broke the silence first.

“So, our last jump is in two days?”   
  


Dick nodded. “Colonel Sink wants us to have Christmas day off.”

“Are you ready?” asked Georgia.

“I know what I need to do,” said Dick. He didn’t meet her eyes.

She looked over to face him. “That is not what I asked you, Dick Winters.”

Lew broke the tension. “Of course he’s ready, we all are. One jump away from being qualified US Army paratroopers, that’s us.”

“You’ve got a point, Lew,” she said. 

Dick nodded in agreement and the trio continued to wander the base, talking occasionally. The three parted ways just as the sun began to dip below the horizon, but not before one last topic of discussion.

“What did you do for Christmas growing up, Georgia?” Dick asked.

She froze. Christmas had been her least favorite holiday ever since she was seventeen. She could just stand here. She had to answer. Smile, nod.

“Oh, nothing to fancy. Dinner with the family, I think we might’ve made it up north a time or two as well.”

Dick still pushed. “No traditions?”

“Not really.”

Lew came to her rescue, just like he had that frigid night in New Jersey. “Her family would come visit mine after Christmas.”

“That sounds interesting,” said Dick.

Georgia nodded.

“It was,” Lew said.

The sunlight was waning, and the officers were tired. Thus, they sent each other off to bed with cheery goodbyes and yuletide wishes.


	7. Friday, December 25th, 1942. Fort Benning, Georgia.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had dreamed she was back in New York. Georgia had awoken with a gasp, thankfully not waking any of the other women around her. Still breathing heavily and rubbing her temples, she tried to remember. Blood, Lew, pounding in her head. Loneliness. She was alone. But was she? No. She was at Fort Benning, not in New York City. Not at the house in Norfolk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween and NaNo Eve friends! 🎃🎃🎃 It's been difficult to get updates out with my schedule, but I'm back in business. Check out my Tumblr @easy-company-tradition for more behind the scenes CHIYC stuff during the month of November!💙💕

**_Friday, December 25th, 1942. Fort Benning, Georgia._ **

She had dreamed she was back in New York. Georgia had awoken with a gasp, thankfully not waking any of the other women around her. Still breathing heavily and rubbing her temples, she tried to remember. Blood, Lew, pounding in her head. Loneliness. She was alone. But was she? No. She was at Fort Benning, not in New York City. Not at the house in Norfolk.

Georgia sighed. If she ended up visiting her family, then the upcoming furlough was going to be the longest ten days of her life. But whether or not she was ready, the day was waiting. So, Georgia stood.

It was a rare day off, so she put on her dress uniform. She took her time pinning her hair back. Glancing in the mirror, she stared deeply into her own eyes. Georgia shook her head and pinned up one last strand of red hair. She took one last long, deep breath, then turned to jog down the stairs.

The air was cool, but still a bit humid. The tree branches were bare against the cloudy sky. She walked briskly around the dirt streets, searching. Searching for what, she wasn’t exactly sure. After a while, Georgia found herself seated on the steps of the Second Battalion HQ building.

“Georgia!”

Dick’s voice cut sharply into her silence. 

“Merry Christmas,” said Dick.

Georgia bit her cheek. “Merry Christmas, Dick,” she said. Her gaze turned skyward. She thought she saw a snowflake.

“So, what are your plans for the furlough?”

“Oh, I’m- I’m planning to visit family in Norfolk.” Georgia exhaled slowly and kept her face calm. “What about you?”

“I’m going back to Lancaster to see my parents and sister,” said Dick.

“That sounds lovely,” Georgia said. When she had been a girl, she’d wished for a sister, just so she wasn’t alone. But alas, she didn’t have a sister. Well, she had Marian. But Marian was still in North Africa, or at least Georgia thought she was. Georgia pushed the thoughts from her mind as she rose to her feet.

Georgia nodded to Dick, then turned and stalked off towards her barracks.

She had intended to pack and then go talk to Sparky, but Georgia had ended up just sitting on her bed with her head in her hands for an hour or so. Most of her clothes were back in Norfolk anyways, so it was just a matter of preference in terms of what she wanted to bring with her.

Georgia glanced out the window at the setting sun. Sighing, she stood up and began to make her way out of the barracks. She had adjusted to the smell of pine and cigarettes, as well as the rough hardwood floors and uncomfortable beds. 

Before she knew it she was at the mess hall. Someone called her name, and she turned to see Ron Speirs approaching her.

“Merry Christmas,” he said. He even offered her a rare smile.

“Merry Christmas, Ron.”

The two got their meals together in companionable silence before Ron spoke. “How’s life up at Battalion HQ?”

Georgia shrugged. “Alright, I suppose. Strayer just lets us do what we need to do, and Sink stops by now and again.”

Ron nodded. “The company misses you, you know.” Georgia moved to speak, but Ron cut her off. “You were a damn good platoon leader and you know it, Georgia.”

She sighed. “I know. But I also know that my area of expertise is intelligence.”

“You always were the smart one out of all the Dog Company officers,” Ron said with a smirk and a roll of his eyes.

Georgia shook her head and laughed. “Someone had to keep the rest of you in line,” she said.

After a few more minutes of light banter, the pair stood. Georgia spoke first.

“Is Dog ready for the last jump tomorrow?”

“I think so,” said Ron. “Are you ready?”

“Ready to be a qualified paratrooper? Definitely.”

Ron smiled and gave her a lazy two-fingered salute, and Georgia just laughed again. With her spirits sufficiently raised, she went to bed that night with a head full of dreams of jump wings, rather than bad memories.

The next morning came soon enough, and Georgia was buzzing with adrenaline. This was the jump that mattered. Not the other four. Only this one. Georgia had packed her chute methodically two days before and had checked carefully over all of her gear first thing that day as well.

She and the other women had chatted quietly but Georgia wasn’t focused. Her mind kept drifting back to previous jumps, and the sergeants that had been there. That was her job today. She’d earned it almost a month ago at Sink’s decathlon, and now it was time to prove that she deserved it.

The march to the planes was dead silent, except for the singing. Able Company stood circled up singing the paratroopers’ song of death, “Blood On The Risers.” It made sense, all things considered. They’d lost two men on the Christmas Eve jump. Their chutes had gotten tangled, and they’d fallen to the ground. Georgia had seen them afterward, as had some of the other women.

Some had cried silent tears, but not Georgia. She couldn’t find it in herself to cry. She just stood there in silence, hoping that no one else would meet that violent of an end in training. 

Now, she let herself be pulled up into the plane. She sat on the bench and waited, waited, waited. Finally, the engine came to life. The plane rose into the sky. Georgia stared at the light. She could feel Dick’s gaze on her, but Lew knew better. He could see something in her that the others couldn’t.

One of the pilots came back and took off the door.

Twenty minutes to jump time.

The red light came on. Georgia stood, and wished for a moment that she was standing on solid ground.

“Stand up!” she shouted.

The officers stood.

“Hook up!”

_ Click.  _

Georgia was still shaking. If something went wrong, it was her fault.

“Equipment check!”

All she could hear was the roaring of the plane.

“Sound off for equipment check!” 

She was surprised the men and women in the plane could hear her.

Still just the roaring of the plane.

“Ten okay!” Below them were empty farm fields.

“Nine okay!” Their dropzone was marked out crystal clear.

“Eight okay!” No one could miss it even if they tried.

“Seven okay!” The voices finally began to cut through the deafening din.

“Six okay!” She could see something glittering in the distance.

“Five okay!” It was a river.

“Four okay!” Sobel.

The presence of that river reminded her of the sea near Norfolk, and she grimaced inwardly.

“Three okay!” Lew.

Breathe in, breathe out. 

“Two okay!” The last officer shouted at her. It was Dick.

“One okay!” Georgia shouted back.

The light changed to green.

Georgia gave one last look over her shoulder.

“Let’s go!” she shouted.

_ One thousand. _

She felt weightless.

_ Two thousand. _

A wisp of her red hair had escaped the confines of her bun and flitted about in front of her eyes.

_ Three thousand. _

It was so quiet now.

_ Four thousand. _

With a violent jerk across her neck, her main chute deployed. Her reserve swayed peacefully in front of her as she gritted her teeth. Georgia glanced around her as she floated down, and smiled as she counted numerous deployed chutes above and surrounding her.

She hit the ground and rolled over gracefully. Gathering up her chute into her arms, Georgia began the walk back to the packing sheds. But, she was stopped before she had made it all the way there.

“G!” 

She knew Lew’s voice anywhere. She turned and saw his smile.

“We did it,” Georgia said breathlessly, “We’re paratroopers now, Lew.”

“I know,” he said. “You make a good jumpmaster. No wonder Dog’s still so fond of you.”

“Oh, cut it out. Where’s Dick?” Asked Georgia as she glanced over Lew’s shoulders.

“Right here,” said Dick. His red hair stood out against the wintry landscape like a burning house against the night sky. 

“Congratulations,” said Georgia.

“Thank you, and to you as well,” Dick said.

Rolling her neck, Georgia glanced at her watch. “I’ll meet you both an hour after the jump wings ceremony, alright?”

The men nodded and concurred, and Georgia took her leave. Back at the barracks, women were bustling this way and that way to make sure they looked spick and span. When the dress uniforms had first come in, they’d all spent hours wandering back and forth like peacocks, checking themselves out in the mirrors. Now, Georgia showered, then put up her hair as she pulled on her dress uniform. As she was tugging on her boots, she paused and smiled. She promptly bloused her trousers before striding over to the mirror to examine herself. 

Not bad, not bad. Not bad at all.

Now, she had a ceremony to attend.

Georgia walked calmly down to the open field where Colonel Sink stood waiting. There was a chill in the air and darkness was edging in rapidly, but nothing could manage to dampen the newly-minted paratroopers’ spirits. 

Dick and Lew stood with Easy, and Sparky stood with Georgia’s old platoon from Dog. Georgia herself stood with the other 2nd Battalion staff officers. When Sink stepped forward and cleared his throat, the regiment snapped to attention.

“Well at ease, paratroopers,” said Sink. They shifted to parade rest as the Colonel continued.

“Now, Airborne Infantry is new to the American military, and barely tested in combat. But each one of you has proven that the 506th is going to be the best damn regiment the US Army’s got!”

At that, soldiers cheered and Georgia smiled.

“Take pride in your accomplishments, and continue to push boundaries in the future. Currahee!”

“Currahee!” came the 506th’s thunderous reply to its commander. 

Next, Sink came around to each paratrooper and pinned a pair of jump wings onto their jacket. Georgia looked at them in wonder. A silver parachute flanked by a pair of great wings. When Sink stepped up to her, she could smile in his eyes.

“Congratulations, Georgia,” he said. “I’m proud of you.” He handed her the jump wings, and she pinned them onto her four-pocket jacket.

She met his gaze, and couldn’t help but smile in return. “Thank you, sir.”

He nodded to her, and then addressed the next officer. The process continued until every jump qualified member of the 506th had their wings. A cool breeze blew across the open field as the last rays of sunlight faded. After that, the soldiers split off into various little groups more appropriate for celebrations.

Georgia made her way to the officers’ club and slid up to the bar beside Sparky. The bar was warm, smoky, and dimly lit, reminding her of something out of the movies. Ron handed her a glass, and they toasted.

“Currahee,” they said in tandem. The beer was bitter, and not her usual preference, but that didn’t matter. She was a qualified Army paratrooper celebrating with her closest friends. The only thing that could dull her spirit was the thought of traveling to Norfolk the next morning.

“Congratulations on becoming a qualified paratrooper,” said Ron.

“Sam to you,” said Georgia. “I still can’t believe that it happened. I haven’t got a clue what my family will say about it when I see them.”

“They don’t know you’re in the 506th?” he asked.

Georgia shook her head as she glanced around the warm room. “I never told them what part of the Army I was joining, and I haven’t written home at all.”

Ron nodded in understanding and took a sip of his beer. “Good luck seeing them on furlough.”

Georgia’s brow furrowed.

“You’re not the only smart one, you know,” Ron said.

Georgia shrugged. “Fair enough, Sparky.” She saw Lew and Dick through the window. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my exalting presence is required elsewhere.”

She stood, nodded to the bartender, and walked out as Ron laughed.

“Night, G,” he called after her.

In the cool night air, Lew leaned against the wall smoking as Dick stood beside him. Both men perked up as Georgia approached them.

“So boys,” said Georgia, “where are we off to?”

Lew laughed, and Dick smiled.

“Easy’s meeting at a bar a half-mile down the road. You in?” asked Lew.

“Lewis, I wouldn’t miss that for the world,” Georgia said sarcastically.

“Don’t call me Lewis,” he said as the trio began to walk off into the night.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll think of something,” said Lew.

As they continued walking towards the bar, the trio soon dissolved into a fit of laughter that pierced the cold, empty December night.


	8. Sunday, December 27th, 1942. En route to Norfolk, Virginia.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her jaw was already aching, and it had been for hours. Georgia had boarded the train headed north from Columbus an hour ago, and Lew hadn’t stopped looking at her. They’d selected first class, and now occupied a private cabin that had plush navy blue seats and walnut wood paneling. She’d tried to distract herself from the mood between the two of them by looking out the window, but it wasn’t working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday folks! This chapter takes a really deep look at Georgia's character and her background, so I hope you all enjoy it! 💙💙

**_Sunday, December 27th, 1942. En route to Norfolk, Virginia._ **

Her jaw was already aching, and it had been for hours. Georgia had boarded the train headed north from Columbus an hour ago, and Lew hadn’t stopped looking at her. They’d selected first class, and now occupied a private cabin that had plush navy blue seats and walnut wood paneling. She’d tried to distract herself from the mood between the two of them by looking out the window, but it wasn’t working.

“Would you like to say anything Lew?” Georgia asked.

Lew’s jaw clenched, and he sighed. He looked out the window, then back towards her. “Don’t go to Norfolk, Georgia.”

“Why?” she asked.

“You know damn well why.”

The train shuddered and jolted, and Georgia huffed angrily. There was a rap at the door, and both of their gazes snapped up.

A uniformed waiter made to enter the car, but both Georgia and Lew shook their heads and waved the man off. He nodded and continued on his way down the train car.

Turning her attention back to Lew, Georgia delivered her response to his remarks thus far. 

“Well, what would you suggest I do?” she said, “It’s not like I’m welcome at your house without a promise of marriage to you. And last time I checked, you’re in no position to provide that.”

“Oh goddamnit, Georgia. Just don’t go back to Norfolk for Christ’s sake,” said Lew.

Georgia pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes until she saw lights dancing across the inside of her eyelids. “Lew,” she spat, “if there was another option I would take it. But there isn’t.”

Lew sighed angrily and turned to look out the window. Georgia bit her cheek and didn’t look at him. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a pack of Lucky Strikes. The silence between them was tense and thin, with Lew periodically taking sips from his flask while Georgia smoked.

The air outside grew frostier as the train chugged its way north, eventually arriving in Norfolk. Georgia could smell the sea air before she got off the train, and it made her sick to her stomach. 

“G, please,” said Lew.

She met his pleading eyes one more time before she turned and exited the car. With her bag slung over her shoulder, she felt the weight of bad memories pressing down too as she began to walk across the platform.

“Miss Fenley?” a voice called.

Georgia turned to meet the gaze of a man wearing a black and white chauffeur’s uniform. She sighed before speaking.

“My mother sent you?” asked Georgia.

“Yes, miss. She’s awaiting your arrival in the sitting room.”

Of course. She couldn’t have the decency to go visit her parents in the country. 

“Well, let’s go then. Can’t keep her waiting.”

“Very well, miss.”

The man took her bag and put it in the trunk before holding the door open so she could slide into the back seat. As the car started, Georgia leaned her head against the cool glass window and watched Norfolk pass her by. The familiar streets and buildings gave her a strangely comforting feeling like they were a shield meant to protect her from the challenges ahead. The last time she’d been home had been before she’d left for basic training at Fort Des Moines. She and her father had fought horribly, and her mother had just stood there, silently judging her.

They drove past the ocean, and the law offices, and into the wealthy end of town. Soon enough, a stately brick house loomed ahead on the horizon. The red bricks were complemented by white dovetailed edging on all of the corners, and tall white columns in front. The rose bushes were trimmed, and the poplar trees loomed bare-branched above them. On the outside, it looked like the home of a happy, incredibly wealthy family. 

As the car rolled to a stop, Georgia took a deep breath. The door of the car opened, and she stepped out. Her dress uniform was her armor as she approached the solid oak front door. It opened from the inside, and Georgia steeled her expression.

Her eyes adjusted quickly to the lesser amount of light in the foyer as she removed her overseas cap and tucked it into her belt. The draperies over the bay windows were still the same, and so were the carpets. Though Georgia hated to admit it, her mother had had good taste when she selected the burgundy fabric to accompany the off-white walls of the Fenley family home’s foyer.

“Georgia, is that you?” her mother called out.

Gritting her teeth, Georgia made her way over to the sitting room and walked in. The room was painted the same off-white as the foyer, but it had blue accents in addition to the burgundy draperies and carpets. 

Georgia knew she wasn’t going to survive this trip without at least some alcohol, so she walked over to the side table below the mirror where it was kept and poured herself a glass of cognac.

“That’s awfully strong, dear. Mind you don’t drink too much.”

Georgia rolled her eyes. She liked strong alcohol. That was one of the few things her father had given her beside his last name. Once she was happy with the amount of cognac in her glass, Georgia walked over to the chaise lounge and sat gingerly upon it, minding her jump boots.

Her mother sighed and smoothed out her skirt. Her hair - not as red as Georgia’s - was pinned out of the way of her brown eyes.

“It’s good to see you, though your father and I were hoping this whole military escapade of yours would be over by now,” she said.

“Pardon?” Georgia asked with a raised brow.

“What your mother is saying is that you’re the sole heiress to one of the largest family fortunes on the eastern seaboard. You need to be finding a suitable match who can manage the company and buy you - oh, I don’t know - buy you a watch every once in a while.”

Georgia turned her head to meet her father’s gaze. He looked as exasperated as he’d been the last time she had seen him. His brown hair was graying at the temples, and his blue eyes stared piercingly back at her.

“I think I’m perfectly capable of buying myself a watch, thank you very much,” said Georgia.

Her mother sighed, and her father clenched his fists as he began to walk towards her.

“You aren’t cut out for the Army, and after you tried to say that you were it’ll be a miracle if any man will marry you at all,” her father snapped.

As usual, her mother was sitting there quietly.

“I am cut out for the Army. I’m a fully qualified intelligence officer in the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment,” Georgia spat back as she rose to her feet.

“A paratrooper?” her mother questioned, “Oh my Lord.”

“You’ll die jumping out of one of those damn planes,” said her father.

“Hasn’t happened yet.”

“Oh, believe me, it will.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Georgia Anne, I am your father. Until the day you’re married, you’re mine.”

Her father’s face was mere inches from her own as he seethed, but Georgia didn’t waver. She was alone and scared, but she couldn’t afford to show it.

After a few moments, her father turned on his heel and thumped off to his study. Her mother sighed and looked at her with annoyance before stalking off after him. Georgia herself simply downed the rest of her cognac before walking back out into the foyer. She assessed her surroundings before opting to trek up the grand staircase that led to the more private areas of the house. She kept climbing and climbing until she reached the third floor.

At the landing, she paused to glance around her. Very little had changed in the months since she’d first left Virginia. A flash of black caught her eye, along with the movement of a curtain. Georgia walked forward until she realized what the ruckus was.

“Oh, hello you.”

The small black kitten meowed at her as Georgia carefully picked her claws out of the curtains before cuddling her in her arms. Georgia sat on the window sill and began to absentmindedly stroke her fur as she peered out across the rooftops of Norfolk.

Growing up, Georgia had never been allowed to have a pet. She recalled her mother mentioning something about ‘respectable Southern practices’ and how having a kitten or a puppy wasn’t one of them. She also remembered visiting the Nixon home and visiting Lew’s dog and Blanche’s cat.

With a sad smile, Georgia wished Blanche were here now. She always knew what to do when Georgia didn’t. 

Georgia let her head bang back against the wooden edging of the window. She was alone, just like she always was.

“Miss Fenley?” a lady’s voice called, “Tea will be served in the sitting room in just a few minutes.”

“Damnit mother, you can’t win my affections with a cup of English Breakfast Tea and a forced conversation about eligible young men,” Georgia muttered as she stretched out her legs. The cat skitted off her lap as she did so, and she missed its warmth and comfort almost instantly. 

“Would you tell my mother I’ll be down in just a few moments?”

“Of course, Miss Fenley.”

“Thank you.”

Groaning, she began to jog back down the staircase, letting her jump boots thump loudly as she did so. Upon reaching the second floor, she entered her bedroom and began to unbutton her jacket. 

All of her matching cherry furniture was still exactly as she’d left it, and it had even been dusted recently. Her vanity sat beneath a window, and the armoire across from it against the opposite wall. 

Georgia elected not to dress up for the occasion of tea with her mother. Reaching into the armoire, she picked out a black slip and her favorite blue dressing gown. She also put on a pair of seamed stockings and some slippers before glancing in her vanity mirror as she let her hair down. Georgia smirked bitterly at her reflection, knowing full well that her mother would be exponentially more amicable if she wore feminine clothes as opposed to her pinks and greens.

She exited her room and pulled the door to allow it to click shut behind her before continuing through the house. When she returned to the ground floor she caught her father watching her eerily from the doorway of his study. Georgia ignored him and strode into the lion’s den once more.

The maid was pouring the tea into two china cups while Georgia’s mother sat on the chaise lounge beside the window that Georgia had occupied earlier. The tea service was cream white and yellow with gold edges on the rims of the cups, saucers, and other elements. It cost a fair amount of money by her family’s standards, but it wasn’t the most expensive thing they owned.

The maid handed her a cup and Georgia leaned against the door frame. 

“Thank you,” said Georgia. 

The maid nodded to her as she gave her mother a cup of tea. Her mother nodded, and the maid took the tea trolley and left.

“Georgia dear, you know your father only wants what’s best for you - and best for the family,” her mother said.

Georgia rolled her eyes and took a sip of her tea. Her fingers itched for a cigarette.

“How’s Lewis Nixon these days?” her mother asked.

“He got married to a young woman from Arizona in December of last year,” said Georgia, looking over her mother’s shoulder and out into the street. A pair of men in expensive suits and overcoats walked by. Georgia diverted her gaze in disinterest and absentmindedly traced her finger around the edge of her saucer.

“Oh, that’s a shame. The two of you always got on famously.”

“We still do, mother.”

“Oh?” her mother asked. Georgia could see her perking up now.

“We’re serving in the same regiment in the Army,” said Georgia, “The same battalion as well.”

“Well, if Lewis is there, then you might meet some agreeable men in the Army after all.”

Georgia blinked slowly and sipped her tea again as her mother continued to stare at her. They accompanied each other in silence for a few minutes more until Georgia’s mother spoke again.

“We’re hosting a dinner soiree tonight,” she said. “It begins in just over two hours, you’d best hurry and go make yourself presentable.”

Georgia nodded and set her teacup down on the side table, her mind already going. She didn’t like these events, but she did have an eye for what to wear to them. The black slip wouldn’t show underneath her green evening gown, and that dress made her hair glow. She didn’t want to be here, but far be it from Georgia Anne Fenley to waste an opportunity to look stunning. 


	9. Saturday, January 2nd, 1943. Norfolk, Virginia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The phone call from Major Strayer the night before had been a blessing in disguise. The man wasn’t the best commander, and his voice was difficult to hear through the telephone, but Georgia got the gist. Colonel Sink wanted all regimental and battalion level officers back at Fort Benning as soon as possible. Georgia had a few ideas as to why, but she’d take any option to leave Norfolk as soon as it came her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I hope you enjoy this chapter! After this, the story really starts to pick up, so I'm excited to finally be reaching that point. Feel free to comment here, or come let me know your thoughts on Tumblr! I'm @easy-company-tradition. Have a lovely day folks! 💙💙

**_Saturday, January 2nd, 1943. Norfolk, Virginia._ **

The phone call from Major Strayer the night before had been a blessing in disguise. The man wasn’t the best commander, and his voice was difficult to hear through the telephone, but Georgia got the gist. Colonel Sink wanted all regimental and battalion level officers back at Fort Benning as soon as possible. Georgia had a few ideas as to why, but she’d take any option to leave Norfolk as soon as it came her way.

Now, as the sun began to rise on the ocean horizon, she was hastily pulling on her dress uniform so she could make her way back to the train station and catch the earliest train ride back further south.

The dinner soiree the night of her arrival had gone about just as well as she’d expected. Men mooned over her, and her mother glossed over her Army service whenever she could. Georgia hadn’t seen combat, but she was more than willing to bet that most of the eligible young servicemen in attendance would pale at the mere thought of jumping out of an airplane. Content with that thought, Georgia had been sure to consume enough alcohol and petit-fours that their grating humor didn’t bother her anymore.

In moments like that, she missed Lew. His sense of humor matched hers perfectly, and he always had something to say that would make her laugh or smile. When they’d been younger, the two of them had always stuck together at social events. In that sense, they had been comrades-in-arms even before they joined the Airborne.

Tucking her last pair of spare socks into her rucksack, Georgia turned to the window behind her vanity and opened it. The cool, crisp, and salt-smelling air wafted in and washed over her. She stood there for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of the sun’s rays dance across her skin as it emerged over the bay. 

But the moment broke when she heard her father start to stir.

If she didn’t leave now, she’d be stuck in Norfolk until mid-afternoon.

Sighing, Georgia stepped out of the golden light. She shut the window, gathered her things, and walked down the stairs. The chauffeur was waiting by the door, and she nodded to him as he gestured for her to exit first. He took her bag again and held the door for her.

As they approached the train station, Georgia felt her mood improving. She’d be even better when she was back at Benning, but this would do for now. At the station, she gathered her things and purchased another first-class ticket. She was alone, but she didn’t need to be alone in a train car that didn’t suit her expensive tastes.

Finding an empty cabin after about thirty seconds of walking down the train, Georgia stepped inside. She tossed her bag on the seat across from her, before crossing her legs and resting her feet there as well. As the train began to pull out of the station, Georgia lit a cigarette. She let her eyes drift close as she breathed in the smoke. She stayed awake for about half an hour, just long enough for her to finish her cigarette.

Georgia woke up several hours later with an ache in her neck in shoulders. Groaning, she removed her feet from the plush seat across from her as she stretched her arms and legs. When she glanced out the window, she saw the sign for Columbus just ahead. She let out a content sigh, safe in the knowledge that she was back. The mask she wore around her parents could come off, and her Army officers one could come back on.

Soon enough, she stepped off the train and onto the platform. Georgia stepped into one of the waiting taxis and began her trek back to Benning. As they drove, the landscape grew evermore familiar, and Georgia’s mood grew evermore amicable - just as she’d predicted earlier that day.

The driver dropped her off at the gates of the fort, and she strolled back to her barracks leisurely. As she walked, the thought finally hit her.

“Happy twenty-second birthday to me,” Georgia said quietly. She’d been so distracted that she’d managed to forget her birthday, but there wasn’t anything to do. Her parents would’ve either ignored the occasion altogether or forced her to attend some horrid gathering in which she would be presented to many extremely wealthy young men. At least here at Fort Benning, the gatherings she had to attend were productive.

Finally, back at her barracks, Georgia was feeling content. The rest of her birthday was filled with meetings with other members of battalion staff in preparation for the regiment’s upcoming move to Camp Mackall. At eight-thirty, Georgia got ready for bed. Tomorrow was waiting, and the main fighting force of the regiment would be returning soon enough.

At five-thirty the next morning, Georgia awoke to tapping at her window. As she rubbed her eyes, she began to think she had been imagining things, but then it started again. Groaning softly, she walked quietly over to the window, only to see Lew leaning down to pick up a pebble, presumably to join its brethren which had been tossed up at her.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered as she began to pull on her jump boots. Taking the stairs as quickly and quietly as she could, Georgia made her way down to Lew.

“What the hell is your problem?” she asked incredulously, “What if all of the other ladies had been there?”

“Then I would’ve had to come up with a much better plan than this,” said Lew.

Georgia tipped her head back towards the sky and sighed.

“Happy birthday, G.” 

He was holding out a small package to her. It was a black velvet box, plain, except for the clasp, which was made of the letters “CD.”

“Dior?” Georgia asked.

Lew nodded. “I know you better than you think, G.”

She scoffed but opened the box nonetheless. Inside sat a pair of earrings - teardrop-shaped pearls that hung from a small silver chain, which in turn was decorated with small diamonds.

“Lew, these are beautiful,” Georgia said quietly, “They’re exquisite.”

“You deserve beautiful things. If they make you happy,” he replied.

Georgia stepped forward and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, I mean it.”

“I know, and you’re welcome.”

“What are you two doing up so early? I thought I was the only one of our group interested in seeing what the world looks like before six-thirty,” said Dick.

He was already dressed in his canvas uniform and was striding towards Georgia and Lew.

Lew put an arm over Georgia’s shoulders and said, “We’re celebrating.”

“I’d hardly call you giving me a pair of Dior earrings before sunup at an Army fort a birthday celebration, Lew.”

“It’s your birthday?” Dick asked.

“Yesterday,” said Georgia. “I’m twenty-two now.” She noted the lighter tinge of the sky to the east and knew that Fort Benning would be stirring soon enough.

“Happy birthday,” said Dick. His eyes were focused on the earrings. With his upbringing, he probably hadn’t seen this type of jewelry before. At least that’s what Georgia assumed.

Georgia smiled. “Thank you, Dick. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I’m going to go make myself presentable for all of the wonderful battalion staff officers I’ll be dealing with today.”

Lew scoffed and Dick smiled, and Georgia returned to her barracks. As far as she knew, the move to Mackall wasn’t going to happen for another month or so.

But, that time passed quickly. Hours bled into days, which bled into weeks, which bled into the singular month that had remained before the regiment’s move. Georgia’s days had been filled with paratrooper training, praises from Colonel Sink, and intelligence briefings. Now, it was almost the first week of February. The mud at Benning had worsened as they’d gone further into the new year, and Georgia despised how it clung to everything that touched it, as well as how it had been tracked into every building in the Fort. But Mackall was going to be better - so said the Army brass.

It was better, Georgia decided.

In some respects.

There was less mud when it didn’t rain, but many more mosquitoes when it did. Georgia was fairly certain that the whole damn place was a swamp, but the towering pines did remind her of her grandparents’ country home, and that was some comfort to her - when she didn’t think of her parents.

Now sitting in the mess hall beside Dick and across from Lew, her family was the furthest thing from her mind.

“Mail call!” A sergeant shouted, promptly beginning to read off names. Georgia perked up in surprise when he reached the Fs.

“Fenley, G.A.”

“I’m here,” Georgia called, standing to accept the letter. It was written in neat Catholic school cursive and postmarked from Algeria.

“Marian,” Georgia said with a grin.

“Who’s Marian?” asked Lew.

“She’s a friend from OCS. She jumped into North Africa with the 509th PIR.”

“So she’s seen combat already?” Dick asked.

“Yeah. We haven’t talked too much about it though.”   
  
“Alright,” Dick said, turning back to push food around his plate.

“Sorry to disappoint,” said Georgia with a smirk.

“I’m not -” Dick began.

“Except you are. You’re anxious to know what’s waiting ahead.”

“Just like the rest of us,” Lew said. “C’mon, Dick, we all want our share of the glory, Why else would we be here in the paratroops?”

Dick didn’t answer, and Georgia was already enthralled by Marian’s letter. Most of it was talking about how terrible the weather in Algeria seemed to be, how strong the alcohol was, and how Marian was a hair’s breadth away from shooting one of her fellow platoon leaders for being incompetent - at least by Marian’s standards. Georgia smile at her friend’s antics before tucking the letter into her jacket pocket.

Dick was now eagerly opening mail from his family in Lancaster while Lew took periodic sips from his flasks.

“Wait just a moment, Lieutenant Winters,” Georgia began with a smirk.

Dick looked at her, trying to figure out why she’d suddenly returned to addressing him as ‘Lieutenant.’

Georgia continued. “That letter,” she said while taking it out of Dick’s hand to show to Lew, “says happy birthday on it.”

“And it’s dated January 20th, 1943,” Lew chimed in.

Dick groaned.

“You knew when Georgia’s birthday is, and you know mine,” said Lew. “This, my friend, is only fair.”

Dick sighed. “Can I at least get my letter back?”

“Certainly,” said Georgia, “but you will be going out to the officers’ club with Lew and I tonight to celebrate you turning …”

“Twenty-five,” Lew said.

“Twenty-five,” Georgia said with a smile.

Dick groaned again and banged his head and on the table, which made Lew and Georgia howl with laughter. 

However, it didn’t last.

Sobel’s iron grip on Easy Company remained, and Georgia didn’t like it. She knew the man was awful, to begin with, but there was something else nagging at her as the regiment found their routine at Camp Mackall. She still couldn’t quite manage to put her finger on it, so she resolved to write to Marian about it later.

Now, she was standing at the edge of the woods, reviewing maps and exercise plans while swatting at mosquitoes.

“Georgia!” Colonel Sink called. He was striding toward her, and the look on his face was a subtler version of Christmas come early.

“Colonel,” she said, nodding. “Is there something I can help you with?”   
  


“If you agree,” he said. “Lieutenant Nixon’s been causing quite a stir with Captain Sobel lately, and I think it’d be prudent to separate the two.”

“I see,” Georgia said, “but I don’t see how this affects me.”

“If you’re willing, you can become the regimental intelligence officer, and Captain Nixon can take your position.”

Georgia let her carefully curated mask fracture into a smile. “Sir, I’d love to. This is a wonderful opportunity.”

“I’m glad you think so Georgia. I’ll have a sergeant set up an office for you, and you can come on over tomorrow.”

He began to walk away, and Georgia was just starting to turn back to her maps.

“Sir!” she called, and Sink looked at her over his shoulder. “Should I tell Lieutenant Nixon?”

“No need for that, Georgia,” said the Colonel. “I had a feeling you’d agree to this, so I informed him first.”

“Alright then,” Georgia said with a laugh. Colonel Sink smiled at her and began to walk back in the direction of the regimental HQ.

Georgia couldn’t seem to stop smiling, but it wasn’t her fault.

After all, Captain Georgia Fenley, Regimental S-2, did have a nice ring to it.


	10. February 17th, 1943. Camp Mackall, North Carolina.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sounds of clinking glasses and Glenn Miller’s music were overflowing, and Georgia could just barely hear the saxophones and trumpets over the roaring laughter from 3rd Battalion’s staff officers. It was late in the day, so she was careful to keep her back to the windows to prevent the lowering sun from stinging her eyes. With a smile, she turned back to Lew and their conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the last update folks! It's been quite a day. Enjoy! :)

**_February 17th, 1943. Camp Mackall, North Carolina._ **

The sounds of clinking glasses and Glenn Miller’s music were overflowing, and Georgia could just barely hear the saxophones and trumpets over the roaring laughter from 3rd Battalion’s staff officers. It was late in the day, so she was careful to keep her back to the windows to prevent the lowering sun from stinging her eyes. With a smile, she turned back to Lew and their conversation.

“So, how does being on 2nd Battalion staff suit you so far?” Georgia asked.

Lew chuckled and took another sip of whiskey. He and Georgia were seated in the back corner of the officers’ club, discussing the various happenings of the regiment over the past couple of weeks. The Mackall officers’ club was nice enough, with green walls and white trim. Inside was always warm and smelling of alcohol and cigarettes.

“Beats being around Herr Black Swan all the damn time,” he said.

Georgia nodded and ran a hand over her hair, ensuring that all of the red strands were still sitting in their proper place. As she did so, she considered Sobel. If she were to be completely honest, the man always put her on edge. There was something about him - not something tangible, she’d never actually managed to put her finger on it - but nevertheless, something about him that Georgia simply didn’t trust. Pushing the thought from her mind, she continued their discussion.

“I’m fairly certain Dick misses your company - unless there’s another reason he’s been wandering around like a lost puppy for so long.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that, it’ll bruise his ego.”

“I won’t,” said Georgia, “but it still annoys me. He cares too much.”

“He probably does,” Lew replied, his words beginning to slur ever so slightly.

Georgia rolled her eyes and sighed. “Not getting invested is a valuable skill, Lew. A necessary one. You know that just as well as I do.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he said. Lew continued to drink from his flask as Georgia pulled out a cigarette. They sat beside one another in amicable silence for a while, until the sun had stopped peeking through the windows and was starting to dip below the horizon. At that point, they stood and farewelled each other, and went off to prepare for the next day.

The next day turned out to be quite - interesting, to say the least.

All of 2nd Battalion was participating in a field exercise which Georgia had helped plan. She’d given Lew all the necessary intelligence, which forced him to speak to Dick since Easy Company’s new intelligence officer still hadn’t shown up from the 82nd.

It wasn’t a challenging exercise in the physical sense, but there was a considerable amount of thought and mental legwork involved on the part of the various companies partaking in the event.

Now, Georgia was leaning one hip against the jeep while the Colonel was seated inside, both of them awaiting the return of Dog, Easy, and Fox Companies. Ahead of them stood the forest of pine trees, and above that, the crystal clear blue North Carolina sky. Georgia felt like pulling out a cigarette - she was anxious, and she couldn’t manage to figure out why. However, the reason presented itself shortly.

Led by Captain Sobel, Easy Company emerged from the woods looking especially dejected and angry. Georgia quickly picked Dick apart from the crowd and walked towards him. They paused a few yards away from everyone else.

“What happened?” asked Georgia.

“He’s a fool who’s going to get us all killed, that’s what happened,” said Dick angrily. He took off his helmet and ran a hand roughly through his hair before making sure that they were out of sight and earshot of the rest of the soldiers.

“We were in textbook ambush position, Georgia. I told him - _I told him -_ and he ignored me. If this had been real, almost all of Easy would be dead right now.”

Dick’s mind was rushing, that much was evident. He couldn’t seem to calm down and that was only making things worse. If there was one thing Georgia knew, it was that you couldn’t solve anything if you couldn’t be strategic enough to think four or so steps ahead.

“Calm down,” she said quietly. “There’s nothing else you can do today, so just let it go.”

“Let it go?” Dick asked incredulously. “What good will that do?”

“More than you could in this state,” Georgia said, gesturing to his reddening face and ever-so-slightly disheveled uniform.

He huffed, but then nodded. Whether or not he said it out loud, Dick was acknowledging that she had a point. Nodding to her again, he began to walk towards the rest of Easy Company. He stood behind Sobel, listening intently, and hiding his expression.

Satisfied, Georgia walked back towards Colonel Sink.

“Is everything alright?”

Colonel Sink shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Easy Company’s training record isn’t lining up with their performance record in the field at all. These men are failing nearly every step of the way, except in training,” he finished with a sigh.

“If I may sir,” Georgia began, “perhaps we could try letting some of the officers and NCOs come into their own?”

Sink looked intrigued, so Georgia continued.

“These men are used to their CO ordering them to do things, not their other officers or noncoms. If we give those other men more of an opportunity to lead, it could instill more trust and unity within the company.”

Sink nodded and smiled. “I think that’s a fine idea, Georgia. It’ll work especially well with getting E Company’s new Lieutenant up to speed.”

“He’s arrived?” asked Georgia.

“Oh, about half an hour ago,” Sink said.

“Well then, I suppose I’ll go introduce myself,” Georgia said, preparing to salute the Colonel and depart.

“Oh, none of that,” said Sink. “The least I can do is get my driver to take us both back to the HQ.” He motioned for the sergeant to come over and start the jeep. Colonel Sink then opened one of the doors and gestured for her to enter.

“Thank you, sir,” said Georgia.

The Colonel smiled and nodded, and then the jeep started. Soon enough, they were kicking up dust on their way back to the 506th’s headquarters building. When the jeep rolled to a stop, Georgia spotted a shorter man with blond hair and an 82nd Airborne patch on his shoulder standing just outside the door.

Georgia nodded to Colonel Sink and his driver, then exited the jeep and began striding towards the new officer.

“Lieutenant?” she called.

The man turned to face her, his bright blue eyes meeting her brown ones. He was barely half an inch taller than her, but he seemed alright.

“Captain Fenley, I presume?”

Georgia nodded, and returned the salute the man offered.

“Lieutenant Harry Welsh, just assigned to Easy Company,” he said.

“So I’ve heard,” said Georgia, “and I’ve also heard you were in the 82nd?”

Welsh nodded. “Yes ma’am. I didn’t see any combat there, though.”

“Unless the brass is counting fighting other paratroopers as combat, of course.”

Welsh blanched at her comment, then had the strength of character to laugh it off. “I don’t think they’ve started doing that yet, Captain.”

“Alas, they haven’t,” she said. “Well, I’ll leave you to your duties, Lieutenant Welsh.”

Nodding and saluting, Lieutenant Welsh turned and walked off towards Easy Company’s barracks. Georgia decided that she liked him so far.

Georgia slumped back against the wall of the HQ and sighed deeply after a few moments, and let her thoughts turn back to the predicament of Captain Sobel. She was familiar with the art of playing the long game, and even more familiar with stakes this high. But, she couldn’t get Sobel removed directly. She’d have to wait for him to slip up before she could swoop in and make her case.

Georgia contemplated her options. She couldn’t speak to Colonel Sink so soon after suggesting he place primary responsibility on the officers, because that would make it seem like she simply had a vendetta against Sobel.

Not that that wasn’t true, but that wouldn’t help her make her case to the Colonel.

For now, Georgia supposed, all she could really do was plan and wait. However, planning and waiting were intelligence officers’ specialties.

Georgia ended up waiting for a while. After two weeks, the worst that had happened was Sobel shouting “Ye gods, here they come,” at a few leaves shaken loose by animals.

When Dick had told her, she’d resisted the urge to laugh. Dick was livid, so she’d kept her own thoughts well hidden. He cared too much.

Now, as Georgia walked through the woods listening to Captain Sobel’s angry yelling, she took a deep breath in order to prepare herself. The winds whistling gently through the trees above her calming, so she focused on that as well as the solid thumping of her jump boots against the ground. She’d already checked in with Fox Company on the far edge of the line, and they were doing well. They had good enlisted men who could decipher cryptic orders handed down to them from less invested officers. Georgia didn’t know anyone in Fox particularly well, but they seemed alright for the most part.

Dog was another story. Every once in awhile, Georgia would catch herself missing her old platoon. She hated to say it, but she was vain. She’d liked being in charge of a combat team more than being responsible for the aforementioned combat team’s intelligence. However, that wasn’t to say she didn’t enjoy being the regimental S-2. It was high stakes and fast-paced, and Georgia was damn good at it. She liked the adrenaline rush and the weight on her shoulders.

Upon reaching Easy’s CP, she saw the Captain holding a bandage against his side whilst shouting angrily.

“Is there a problem, Captain Sobel?” asked Georgia sweetly.

He whirled around and looked at her incredulously.

“Yes there is, Captain!” he exclaimed. “The company medics -”

“Have been with me all morning, in briefings,” Georgia said simply.

Sobel’s angry facade faded into one of confusion. He was buying into her story all too easily.

“Medics need to know where evacuations areas are, Captain,” Georgia continued, “and designating such areas is my responsibility. I wanted to get Roe’s and Spina’s thoughts and opinions before I made any definitive decisions, seeing as they are the medical experts.”

Sobel opened his mouth and then closed it again, before storming off deeper into the words. Georgia smirked.

“Captain?” Hoobler called out. She turned to face him. “Roe and Spina have been here all last night and today.”

“Why do you assume I don’t know that?”

Hoobler looked at her strangely, and Luz stepped forward.

“C’mon Hoob, let the lady do us a favor when she’s in the mood for it,” he said.

Georgia laughed, and shot the men a wink before turning to continue walking the line. She may have been playing the long game, but waiting it out didn’t need to be boring. 


	11. May 6th, 1943. Kentucky.

**_May 6th, 1943. Kentucky._ **

Captain Sobel’s foul mood hadn’t tempered in the months since the 506th had been at Camp Mackall. In fact, it had only worsened.

Every mistake that was made, everything that went wrong - none of it was ever his fault. He always pushed the blame back onto his men, punishing them for things they didn’t do. Footlockers were upturned, barracks ransacked, and attitudes ruined for weeks at a time. Georgia, of course, stood and watched from the sidelines. She’d signed up for the long game, after all.

However, there were no barracks to upend in the Kentucky mountains where the regiment was currently participating in a two-month-long combat exercise. With a sigh, Georgia tried her best to fluff up her greasy hair. These damned hills were not preferential to her sense of style and personal hygiene, that was for sure. She’d been spending the past week with 2nd Battalion, after being with 1st Battalion upon their arrival in the Kentucky foothills. Her main job was to ensure that battalion and company level intelligence officers knew what they were doing and that they could handle taking orders from her.

Georgia heard movement in the bushes behind her, and she whirled around with her .45 at the ready.

“Hey!” exclaimed Dick, “It’s only me.”

Lowering her pistol, Georgia rolled her eyes. “Jesus Christ, you scared me. You need to announce yourself, give a girl a minute or so to make herself presentable.”

With a sarcastic nod, Dick jumped down into Georgia’s foxhole. Hey looked around the small space, then back out at the southern countryside.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” he said.

“I think she’d prefer the Ritz Carlton, Dick,” Lew said as he walked up to them.

He crouched down at the edge of the foxhole and looked to Georgia. His hair was greasy as well, and he had only slightly less dirt on his face than Dick.

“Any news from you, Miss Fenley?”

“Nothing as of yet, I’ll let you know as soon as Sink tells me anything,” said Georgia.

Lew nodded, then took a look at Dick. His eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy as his head leaned back against the earthen wall of the foxhole. Smirking, Lew began to inch forward. He stretched out his hand.

“Knock it off,” Georgia said, slapping his hand away. Dick stirred slightly, and Lew huffed before turning back towards 2nd Battalion’s CP and walking off.

“Hey, Dick?”

Dick’s eyes were still closed, and his breathing was slow. Georgia hoped she wasn’t waking him up.

“What?” he asked groggily.

“What are you going to do about Sobel? In combat, I mean.”

“Georgia,” he said, “I haven’t gotten that far yet. I’ve still got to get the men through training before I deal with that.”

“Fair enough.”

Georgia turned and looked back out across the mountains. The stars were bright and pretty, and she remembered some story a governess had read her during her childhood. It was nonsense, something about wishing on stars. First off, you could never see stars in Norfolk. Second off, wishing never solved anyone’s problems.

Georgia slumped back against the wall of her foxhole. Dick would have to leave soon to get back to his platoon. She stuck her foot out and kicked him, and he jerked awake.

“Go back to your men,” Georgia muttered.

Dick rose and did as he was asked. Georgia could feel his eyes on her before she heard him turn and walk away. She felt her mind growing foggy, and she was asleep before his footfalls were out of earshot.

Georgia awoke with a start at around four in the morning, and she immediately picked up her rifle. Her conscious mind wasn’t awake fully, but her body was reacting on instinct alone. After a few moments, Georgia was able to realize why she’d awoken so violently. 

There were noises coming from out in front of her, noises that sounded suspiciously like men moving down near the creek a quarter-mile from her foxhole at the front of the line.

Silently, she pulled herself out of her foxhole and grabbed her rifle. Georgia got on her stomach and crawled to the crest of the hill and looked down.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. Below her, there were at least two platoons from 3rd Battalion, milling around the creek. They obviously didn’t know that 2nd was so close, or else they wouldn’t have been so careless as they were at that moment. They were filling up canteens, washing clothes, smoking, and chatting amongst themselves.

Swearing anew, Georgia crawled all the way back to the solidity of the forest behind her foxhole. Once there, she broke out into a run that carried her all the way back to 2nd Battalion’s CP. Major Strayer spotted her first.

“Fenley?” he asked.

“Two platoons from 3rd are at the creek, my bet’s that the rest are nearby. They don’t know we’re here, and if we play our cards right, they’ll never even see us coming,” she finished, panting.

Major Strayer looked shocked, and Lew looked like it was Christmas come early. Then, they sprang into action.

“Nixon, go brief the company commanders. Fenley, back to the line with a radio op,”

said Strayer. 

“Mind if I take one from Easy?” Georgia asked.

“Not at all. Now go, and let’s beat the hell out of Major Horton’s boys.”

Smoking, Georgia jogged off to find Easy Company. She picked her way there carefully through the dense woods, quiet as a church mouse.

Approaching the company CP at long last, she had only one thought.

Sobel was going to be mad as hell.

“Luz!” Georgia quiet voice cut through the humid air.

“Yes ma’am?” asked Luz.

“You’re coming with me to the edge of the line.”

Nodding, Luz scooped up his equipment. Sobel came out, looking upset as per usual, and Georgia groaned internally when he made ready to speak.

“You can’t take my radio operator,” he said.

“Watch me,” Georgia shot back.

Turning on her heel, she marched off. She heard Luz jogging to catch up to her, and they began to walk swiftly as a pair through the woods.

“3rd battalion is close, and we’re going to make sure they don’t get any further away,” Georgia said.

“How close is close, Captain?”

“Quarter of a mile from my foxhole close, Sergeant.”

“Damn,” Luz said. “Is it all of ‘em?”

“Two platoons refilling canteens, but I’d bet the rest of the battalion is close by,” she finished.

“So you and I watch to make sure they stay put while everyone else goes in for the kill?” asked Luz.

“Precisely,” Georgia said with a smirk.

With their trek completed, they jumped back down into Georgia’s foxhole. She pulled out her binoculars and made sure that the soldiers were still there.

“Fuck,” she said.

They were.

“There a problem, Captain?” Luz asked.

“If those two companies down their spot you and I, then definitely. If not, then I think we’ll be alright,” Georgia said.

Luz squinted and looked through the trees, and his eyes widened. The majority of Hotel and Item Companies were now roaming around the small creek, and Georgia hoped against hope that they wouldn’t see her and Luz at the top of the small rising hill.

The pair stood in tense silence until they saw Dog Company emerging from the woods on their left, Easy to their right, and Fox making their way down behind 3rd Battalion to capture them.

“Come on, boys,” Luz said quietly.

Soon enough, all hell broke loose.

The maneuver went off without a hitch, Though Strayer wasn’t the best combat command mind in the 506th, Georgia had to give him credit for this. 2nd Battalion captured two-thirds of 3rd Battalion in one fell swoop, and Dog had been sent off with Fox to apprehend the remaining company. By lunchtime, the whole affair was over, and Colonel Sink was on his way.

That day was, by far, the highlight of Georgia’s time in Kentucky.

Getting a warm shower at Camp Breckenridge was a close second.

Funnily enough, the worst news also hit them at Camp Breckenridge. That came in late July.

Georgia was sitting with Hester and Matheson discussing logistics when Sink strode into the room and spoke suddenly in his southern drawl.

“We’re joining the 101st Airborne Division,” he said.

“You’re joking,” said Hester.

“I’m sorry?” Georgia said incredulously.

SInk sighed. “We’ve been ordered to by Ike. The 101st needs more manpower, and the 506th has got one hell of a training record. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

Georgia sighed, Hester rolled his eyes, and Matheson slammed his hand down on the table.

“It’s not fair. We’ve been an independent regiment for almost an entire year, and now all of a sudden they’re interested?” Matheson asked.

“It doesn’t seem fair to me either son, but that’s the way these things go. I trust you’ll all inform the men?”

“Yes, sir,” the three officers said in dejected voices.

Internally, Georgia was bubbling with anger. The 506th had been one of the Army’s top independent parachute regiments for eleven months, and now they were being tossed to - what had Marian called the 101st in her letters?

Ah, yes. The squawking chickens.

For lack of a better metaphor, Georgia knew that most of the emotions rising to the surface were just the ruffled feathers of the regiment’s ego. They’d all be perfectly fine in a month or so, and they’d raise hell if anyone said a word against their regiment or their division. 

However, in spite of her initial anger, Georgia had to concede that the patches did look sharp on their uniforms. When they’d arrived, all of the ladies had promptly stitched them on - Georgia needing a little bit of guidance in that arena. After that, they’d paraded around the barracks like peacocks rather than chickens or eagles, admiring and enjoying the symbol of their new division. On top of that, being known as a “screaming eagle” seemed like quite an exciting prospect.

The peacocking was continuing across the grounds of the camp as well. A little bit before sunset, Georgia set off and find Lew and Dick. The pair turned out to be wandering around near a small grove of trees, also making use of their newly upgraded uniforms.

“Hey, screaming eagles,” Georgia called.

The pair turned and smiled at her, and she let out a small laugh. They were starting to everything in unison because of how much time they were spending around each other, in spite of Lew’s promotion up to 2nd Battalions staff several months earlier.

“Hey yourself,” said Lew. “Any news about when we’re going to be traveling to somewhere that is not in the state of Kentucky?”

“Oh, come on Lew, I thought you liked the south,” Georgia said, playfully pushing his shoulder.

“I like one person from the south, and she’s getting more annoying by the minute,” said Lew as he gave her a light shove back.

“How dare you!” Georgia said. “Did you hear him, Dick?”

Dick had been observing their antics from a few steps away with a small smile on his face up until that moment.

“Oh, I don’t think I hear anything, Georgia,” he said, struggling to hide his grin.

“Traitor,” Georgia said, using her jump boots to kick dust at him.

The three of them soon began an odd triangle of kicking dust at each other while simultaneously trying to avoid getting any of it on themselves. Eventually, they all burst out laughing, and when they finally caught their breath they couldn’t even remember what had been so funny in the first place, which only made them start laughing a second time even harder than the first.

When they’d finally managed to collect themselves, the late summer sun was just dipping below the horizon. It bathed the military camp in an orangey glow that made Dick’s hair as well as Georgia’s look like it was set ablaze.

“In all seriousness,” said Georgia, “we are moving out soon. I can’t tell you where just yet, but you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Dick nodded solemnly, and for once, Lew didn’t make a sarcastic comment.

“Are we prepared for - whatever this is?” Dick asked.

Georgia nodded. “I’ve got faith in the 506th, Red. We’ll be alright.”

Dick nodded and smiled at the nickname. Georgia didn’t think he’d admit it, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it was growing on him the more she used it.

Lew spoke up next. “When can I expect to hear about this?”

“The next few days and Dick’ll hear not too long after that,” she said.

“Alright then,” said Lew. He pulled out his flask and raised it up. “To whatever the future may hold.”

Dick simply nodded, and Georgia pulled out a cigarette and held it to her lighter. She gestured upward with it, then took a long drag before turning away from Dick, recalling his dislike of cigarette smoke.

With a sigh, she looked out across the rapidly darkening sky.

She hoped she was ready for England, and whatever lay after that too.

  
  
  
  
  



	12. August 24th, 1943. En route to New York City.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August 24th, 1943. En route to New York City.
> 
> The train certainly wasn’t as elegant as Georgia had become accustomed to in her youth, but she’d been learning to cope with the lack of decadence within the US Army. She was currently sitting next to Dick with her feet on the seat across from her, engaged in conversation with Harry Welsh.
> 
> “No, listen,” Harry said, “In poker, it’s all about how good of a liar you are, and you’re good at poker, therefore, you lie a lot.” He settled back in his seat, looking smug.

**_August 24th, 1943. En route to New York City._ **

The train certainly wasn’t as elegant as Georgia had become accustomed to in her youth, but she’d been learning to cope with the lack of decadence within the US Army. She was currently sitting next to Dick with her feet on the seat across from her, engaged in conversation with Harry Welsh.

“No, listen,” Harry said, “In poker, it’s all about how good of a liar you are, and you’re good at poker, therefore, you lie a lot.” He settled back in his seat, looking smug.

“Except for the fact that it takes more than just being a good liar to win at poker,” Georgia began. “You need to master the skill of the actual game. You can lie all you want but it won’t save you from a bad hand.”

Harry scoffed. “A modest rich girl? Who knew,” he said sarcastically.

Georgia sat up and kicked Harry, who promptly swore. Dick looked up from his letter to give Harry a quirked eyebrow and an exasperated look.

“She kicked me!” Harry exclaimed, looking between the two. “Come, Dick, you saw!”

“I didn’t see anything,” said Dick, trying and failing to hide his grin.

“Ha! Take that Welsh,” Georgia said as she settled back into her space beside Dick. As she did so, Harry pretended to look incensed.

“I can’t believe it,” he said, “a good Pennsylvania man betraying one of his own for a Southern girl.”

“Put a sock in it, Harry, you’ll never win,” said Lew, weaving his way towards the other three officers. “Trust me, if Georgia’s convinced someone to help her, then it’s over for you.”

Lew pulled out his flask as Georgia lowered her feet so he could sit. Outside, a gentle summer rain tapped on the windows, but the dark clouds further north held the promise of thunder later on. Harry had also elected to have slightly better posture, but only due to the fact that Lew was holding his flask out to him. Georgia rolled her eyes, and Dick continued to write.

“So,” Lew said, “I assume we all know where this train is headed?”

“You told Harry and me yesterday, Nix.”

“I knew before we left Mackall,” said Georgia.

“Showoff,” Lew muttered, and Georgia grinned.

“It’s a reward for doing all of the intelligence legwork for the regiment,” she said whilst fishing around for a cigarette.

“Oh, my goodness, I forgot! We’re in the presence of the angel of regimental staff!” said Lew, gesturing broadly.

“Will you cut it out?” Georgia asked.

“Georgia, can I have one friend who you haven’t kicked today?” asked Dick.

“I thought you didn’t see me kick Harry, Red.”

Dick paused and looked up, seemingly trying to find the right words. He tapped his pencil lightly against his cheek for a few seconds, then went back to writing.

“Innocent until proven guilty,” he said.

“What does that have to do with anything?” asked Harry, clearly just as confused as Georgia was.

“Georgia is innocent of kicking you until she’s been proven guilty, and you’re innocent of lying about the fact that she kicked you until proven guilty,” he said simply.

Georgia eyed him up quizzically, eventually shrugging and turning to look out the window.

“Fucking Quaker,” Harry muttered as he lit his own cigarette.

Lew chuckled at that as well as Georgia, and the aforementioned ‘fucking Quaker’ elected to keep quiet and continue writing his letter.

The only letters Georgia had gotten had been from her friend Marian, and those were few and far between. Georgia was rather glad that her parents hadn’t written, as speaking to them in person was tiresome enough. She doubted that she’d be able to find the energy or the willingness to respond to them if they ever decided to reach out.

Glancing out the window once more, Georgia took a deep breath in. In amongst the scent of summer rain, she noted something else. It was a soft and sweet scent, almost flowery, but not quite. Taking a breath in again, her brow furrowed.

“What’s that smell?” she asked.

Dick looked up and breathed in, then closed his eyes and smiled. 

“It’s honeysuckle,” he said.

He met Georgia’s confused gaze and sighed before explaining himself.

“It’s a plant, with flowers,” said Dick. “When they bloom, they smell like that, and they taste like honey.”

“You eat flowers?” Georgia asked.

“No,” sighed Dick, “you just touch your tongue to the nectar. I’ll show you sometime.”

“I’ll pass, country boy,” said Georgia.

Dick shook his head and Georgia looked out the window again. Just ahead, the rain was coming down in sheets and the sky was dark. The last thing Georgia remembered before falling asleep was the smell of Vat 69 and cigarette smoke.

The rest of the train ride went smoothly, and before Georgia knew it, they’d arrived in New York City. As soon as they stood up to disembark, Lew had glued himself to her side. Georgia was grateful for that.

As old memories resurfaced, Georgia bit her cheek. She tasted blood. The memories kept coming.

Broken glass and spilled whiskey, mixed with the scent of expensive cigars. A dark wooden desk and upholstery stained red with blood. Georgia felt sick, and she looked at Lew helplessly.

“Just keep walking,” he said, “you’ll be fine, Georgia. I promise.”

Taking a deep breath, Georgia squared her shoulders. Lew had never lied to her before, not once.

After what felt like hours of standing in the sweltering summer heat of the Brooklyn Navy Yard, the 506th eventually made it onto the  _ SS Samaria.  _ Georgia didn’t like ships, but it beat standing in New York City. She had a small cabin to herself, where she presently sat on her bed with her head in her hand.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in!” she called, voice bright to match the situation.

The door creaked open, and in strode Lew. His dark brown eyes met Georgia’s and he sighed as he closed the door.

He held out his arms, and Georgia walked forward. Lew enveloped her in a hug and Georgia buried her face in his shoulder. They stood there as Georgia collected herself, feeling the ship start to pull away from the dock.

“Are you alright, G?” 

“Better,” she said, taking a deep breath, “better.”

Lew nodded and looked at the door, and Georgia gave him a smile of approval. Returning her smile, Lew walked out the door to leave Georgia with her thoughts. She’d always liked that they didn’t have to say things out loud in order to understand one another. It made things easier. They could share looks and smiles and frowns and immediately know what the other meant. 

Georgia walked over to her bag and pulled out her canteen, letting the cool water draw her slowly back into reality. She walked over to her bed and laid down on it while setting the canteen next to her. She had intelligence reports to work on and maps to review, but those could wait. Well, at least they could wait for the time being. When they got to England, that would be a different story. Regardless, Georgia allowed the rocking of the  _ Samaria  _ to lull her to sleep.

The rest of the voyage to England was pleasantly uneventful. The food they served on board the ship was awful, according to Georgia and everyone else present. Georgia was lucky enough to have a cabin to herself, but the enlisted had been bemoaning the cramped quarters which they had been forced to inhabit for the nearly two-week journey. If she were being honest, Georgia felt as though she were a little bit starved for entertainment and gossip.

Of course, that ended promptly thanks to Easy Company.

She was walking down the halls of the ship to find Major Horton when she passed Easy Company’s area and heard a commotion. When Georgia peeked her head in, she saw a crowd of men attempting to separate two soldiers that were trying extremely hard to punch each other. From what she could see, the pair fighting looked to be Liebgott and Guarnere.

Well, that was certainly no surprise.

She overheard two men playing cards and discerned the cause of the conflict. Guarnere made a remark about Sobel possibly being Jewish, Liebgott took offense, and Guarnere hadn’t been prudent enough to quit while he was ahead. Clearing her throat, Georgia prepared to give her two cents on the matter.

“If I may offer some advice, gentlemen,” she called.

The ruckus stopped, and the men shifted under her gaze.

“You can’t very well fight Captain Sobel if you’re preoccupied fighting amongst yourselves.”

“Captain?” Luz asked in an attempt to discern her meaning.

“What, you all think you’re the only ones who are aware of Sobel’s incompetence? Trust me, I’ve heard the stories as well as witnessed a few myself. The only way to deal with a man like that is to stick together and present a unified front,” Georgia finished.

The men nodded, and Georgia smiled at them before walking out and continuing down the hall. The metal of the floor dinged softly under her feet and caught the light as she passed stairways leading up to the deck. 

Many of the men, including Dick and Harry, had gone above deck as they pulled out of New York Harbor. They’d all come back down raving about the Statue of Liberty which had brightened Georgia’s mood slightly from how it had been before. After a few days, she’d even got used to the gently rocking of the ship as it carried them across the sea. Luckily, they hadn’t run into any storms, and they never did.

After ten days at sea, the 506th disembarked in Liverpool, after which they were immediately transported to a quaint little village called Aldbourne. It was picturesque - small and quiet. All in all, it felt like something out of a fairytale book. Bright green grass, small stone buildings, and people who were terribly kind and genuine to the American soldiers taking over their town.

Georgia found herself billeted in a small cottage that thankfully had running water, and belonged to a family named the Clarkes. The Clarke family consisted of a husband who was off fighting in Italy, a son who had been killed while fighting in Africa, and a wife and daughter still back in Aldbourne. The husband was Captain Johnathan Clarke, the son bearing the same name, the daughter was named Molly, and the wife Elizabeth. They welcomed Georgia into their home with open arms, immediately showing her to a bright, sunny bedroom, and offering her tea once she was settled. 

The tea was sweet and warm, and the homemade aspect of it appealed to her much more than tea with her mother in Norfolk had. Overall, Aldbourne was a lovely little town that made you want to stay there forever.

Except, Georgia couldn’t do that. 

She had a country to invade, after all.


	13. October 29th, 1943. Aldbourne, England.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October 29th, 1943. Aldbourne, England.
> 
> The grey skies over Aldbourne looked like they would burst open with rain any second, and Georgia quickened her pace. The rain had become a regular occurrence since the 506th’s arrival and integration into British society, but that didn’t mean that Georgia was enjoying it. It matted her hair down to her face and weighed down her already heavy wool uniform.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAHH THE END IS NEAR! This is chapter 13/15, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do!

**_October 29th, 1943. Aldbourne, England._ **

The grey skies over Aldbourne looked like they would burst open with rain any second, and Georgia quickened her pace. The rain had become a regular occurrence since the 506th’s arrival and integration into British society, but that didn’t mean that Georgia was enjoying it. It matted her hair down to her face and weighed down her already heavy wool uniform.

“Rain is awful,” Georgia reiterated aloud, to her audience of none. She’d spent the morning in intelligence briefings with Colonel Sink, discussing possible drop zones and dangers that lay ahead, and now she walked briskly towards 2nd Battalion’s HQ. They knew that the 506th would be jumping into France - the Nazis suspected Calais - but that seemed too obvious.

Eventually, she would learn all of the details. Well, not  _ all  _ of them. That was left to Division intelligence staff and SHAEF. The day she learned all the details of a deployment would most likely be around the same time that Captain Sobel learned how to how to read and to orient himself on a map.

As Georgia strolled down the stone street, she realized that today was most definitely not that day.

“Hi-yo silver!” Sobel shouted as he led Easy Company’s 1st platoon in a jog up a road that appeared to already be cut by 2nd and 3rd platoons. Georgia quirked a brow as he continued to run forward and eventually stopped when he spotted the other paratroopers. She let a small, gentle smile cross her face as Sobel looked around in confusion.

With a shake of her head and a sigh, Georgia kept walking.

The officers saluted, the enlisted stood at attention, and Sobel nodded to her.

“Captain Fenley.”

“Captain Sobel.”

Dear Lord, that man was on thin ice.

He ruined every tactic and had no common sense - Marian had labeled him as a death sentence to the men of Easy Company, and Georgia trusted her friend’s judgment.

She needed a way to get him out, but an opportunity had yet to present itself.

Finally, the 2nd Battalion HQ building came into view, overrun by cows. Major Strayer walked about looking most affronted, and Georgia stopped at the foot of the steps. Strayer spotted her quickly enough and dogged a large black cow as he walked over to her.

“Major,” she said, saluting, struggling not to laugh.

“Captain Fenley, how may I help you?”

“Just an intelligence briefing for Lieutenant Nixon, sir. If you’d be so kind as to give it to him?”

“Of course,” Strayer said, “Is there anything else?”

“Nothing that can’t wait until after you deal with your,” Georgia paused, searching for a word, “visitors.”

“It was Easy Company,” he said.

“Who else?” she offered sarcastically, just as Captain Sobel came striding past.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Strayer said.

Georgia nodded, and went back the way she’d come. As she passed green pastures and small stone walls, she heard Sobel explaining how Major Horton had given him orders to cut a farmer’s fence.

“Goddamnit,” Georgia muttered, suddenly walking much faster. She cut through an open pasture, her jump boots glistening with dew.

There! 1st platoon stood just ahead alongside the rest of Easy Company.

“Sergeant Luz!” Georgia called out.

No one else in the company could have done an impression of Major Horton convincing enough to fool Sobel.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Major Horton is on leave in London,” Georgia said with a wink. “Just thought you might want to be aware.”

“Shit,” Luz whispered. “Thanks, Captain!”

“Anytime!” she replied as she passed the rest of the company. She grinned at Dick and continued onward into town and towards Littlecote House, which had been transformed into the Regimental Headquarters building back in September. A couple of pigeons flew across her path as Georgia finally trekked up the steps and towards her office, and she resolved to feed them some bread later if they came back.

The next few days passed in a dreary blur, and Georgia never did feed the pigeons.

She was sitting in her chair sipping a freshly brewed cup of Earl Grey tea when an entirely and utterly disheveled Lewis Nixon burst into her office painting for air.

“Dick’s being court-martialed,” he heaved out.

‘What?” Georgia exclaimed, eyes wide. “What the hell happened?”

“Sobel found some stupid reason to punish him long-term, and Dick requested a trial by court-martial.”

“Idiot,” Georgia muttered under her breath. She set down her teacup and rubbed her hands over her face.

“Who, Sobel?”

“Both of them.”

Lew looked at her and Georgia sighed. He sat himself down in one of the oak chairs across from her and pulled out his flask. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, and lit a cigarette while contemplating her options.

“Colonel Sink will see this as an annoyance that has to play out. He respects military law, but he’ll know that this is BS. Dick’s a good officer, and the Colonel knows that. We need to convince him that a court-martial isn’t necessary. As for Sobel, things will go much smoother if we remove him completely,” she said.

“I can talk to the Colonel about the court-martial since it’ll most likely be handled by 2nd Battalion,” Lew said, catching on quickly.

“And I’ll voice my thoughts on Sobel.”

They smirked at each other, before returning to silence to scrutinize their options for speaking to Colonel Sink about the issues at hand.

Lew ended up speaking to the Colonel later that day, and from what he’d said it had gone well.

Georgia had wanted to wait a week or two so that it wouldn’t seem suspicious when she addressed the Colonel, but her plans were dashed when she nearly collided with Hary one sunny morning.

“The NCOs mutinied,” he said frantically, “all of them.”

“They did what?” she asked incredulously.

“They turned in their stripes. Sobel’s pissed, Sink even more so.”

“I can imagine,” she said, nodding. “Let me handle it?”

“As long as you know what you’re doing,” Harry said as he lit a cigarette.

“I’m an intelligence officer, Harry, of course I know what I’m doing.”

With that, she marched off to Littlecote House. The sun was warm on her neck and the crisp fall air reminded her of when she’d first gotten promoted, back at Toccoa.

She was Sink’s favorite officer, that had to count for something.

If it didn’t, then they were all screwed.

She entered the grand parlor and blinked at the lower light before removing her overseas cap and continuing up the magnificent stairway to the second floor.

Third door on the left.

She knocked twice sharply and didn’t wait to be called in before entering.

She was met with about a dozen NCOs standing at attention whilst the Colonel sat behind his desk look particularly displeased. 

“Oh, I’m sorry sir, I was unaware you had company at this early hour.”

Sink’s gaze landed on her and softened. “It’s not your fault Easy Company picked today to mutiny, Georgia.”

“Oh my, a mutiny? How unprofessional,” Georgia said, making sure the southern lilt in her voice was audible. “I can’t believe that these men would do such a thing without any reason.”

“Oh, they gave me a reason, alright. Said they’re not willing to jump with their CO.”

So that’s what this was about? Georgia could work with this. She could most definitely work with this.

Georgia faked starting to speak before making eye contact with the Colonel and then breaking it.

His brow furrowed, and he gestured for her to speak. “Go ahead, Georgia.”

“With all due respect sir, I can’t say I disagree.”

Sink raised his eyebrows and sat up straighter.

The long game was coming to an end.

“I’ve written about Captain Sobel’s record in training exercises to a friend of mine who’s been in combat with the 82nd and she doesn’t trust him. Her name’s Lieutenant Marian Singer - she’s led men into combat sir, I trust her judgment.”

“Just how experienced is this Lieutenant Singer, Georgia?”

“She’s made three combat jumps, sir. They switched her from regiment to regiment because of her skills as a sniper.”

“I see,” sink said with a nod, looking somewhat impressed. “And you - do you share the opinion that Captain Sobel isn’t fit for combat leadership?”

“Frankly, sir - I do.”

Sink nodded again. “I’ll take that under consideration. Now, I’ve still got to deal with these NCOs.”

Georgia nodded. She’d nearly forgotten the other soldiers in the room, and she had to think of something to get them out of this mess quickly.

“If I may, sir?”

Sink nodded, giving her the go-ahead.

“Just dock a few months of their pay. These men acted in what they believed to be the best interests of their comrades, and that money will be useless to them once we jump anyway. I don’t believe that we should be punishing them for the attitude we try to promote.”

Sink eyed her quizically and didn’t speak. After a few tense moments, he sighed and nodded.

“These men are awfully lucky you think so highly of them, Georgia,” Colonel Sink said.

Georgia smiled and nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

She saluted the Colonel, then turned around to leave the office. Her gaze met Lipton’s, and he gave her a subtle nod. Georgia grinned back at him, then strode out of the Colonel’s office. As she walked down the stairs, she caught sight of Dick.

“Hey, Red!” she called.

He looked up and smiled at her, but his eyes betrayed him.

“Oh, don’t look so upset. I just saved your company’s cadre of NCOs from Sink’s wrath,” she said.

Dick looked at her with a furrowed brow as they moved to stand against one wall. “How did you manage that?”

“I’m southern, Dick,” Georgia said, “I’ve mastered the art of convincing people to do what I want.”

“Is that so?” Dick asked, letting a sarcastic tone take over.

“That is so, Mister Pennsylvania,” said Georgia, kicking her foot against Dick’s. The two continued grinning and joking lightly until Georgia noticed rain beginning to fall in the distance.

“If you’ll excuse me, Red,” said Georgia with a hand on Dick’s arm, “I’ve got to get a move on if I want to stay dry.”

“Of course,” said Dick, “I’ll catch you later.”

Georgia nodded and barely caught the parting words Dick tossed her way as she exited Littlecote House.

“Thanks for whatever it is you did for Easy’s NCOs!” he called.

Georgia waved a hand in acknowledgment and walked off into the English countryside.


	14. May 19th, 1944. Aldbourne, England.

**_May 19th, 1944. Aldbourne, England._ **

The pastures outside of Aldbourne were littered with clovers and dandelions, and flowers blossomed on trees all around. The bright green made Georgia feel surprisingly happy and alive. She’d always loved the color, especially when she wore it. It made her hair shine even brighter, and she’d always felt like the center of the universe when people looked to her because of it.

“So, we’re moving out soon?” Dick asked.

Georgia nodded. She’d caught him leaving church with his host family a few minutes ago, and had elected to lean against the stone wall of the churchyard smoking whilst awaiting his company. He’d eventually spotted her, stating that the way the sun illuminated her brilliant red hair had captured his gaze.

“Yes,” said Georgia, “to an airfield near Upottery.”

“Upottery,” Dick said, as though testing out the word.

Georgia nodded, and the two continued walking down the street. A pair of women a few years their junior passed by, looking at them - well, at Georgia - and whispering. She ignored, just as she’d done to every potential husband her parents had ever suggested. Dick had looked upset on her behalf, but Georgia didn’t take too much notice of it.

“At least Sobel won’t be there,” said Dick, finally breaking the tension.

“True,” Georgia said, nodding. “Meehan will make a good company commander.”

“You think so?”

“I do. Do you disagree?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you did imply it,” Georgia said.

Dick looked at her in slight exasperation and shook his head and Georgia just smirked. He wasn’t as good at keeping his emotions a secret as he thought he was. But, the more Georgia thought about it, the more she realized that hadn’t hit the nail on the head as she’d initially thought.

“No, it’s not Meehan,” she said, “Let me guess. New Lieutenant - Compton, right?”  
  


“He gambles, Georgia,” Dick said, starting to sound like a petulant child.

“So does Lew,” she said with a shrug.

“Not with the enlisted. And he doesn’t respect Army rules.”

“In my experience, there are certain rules that shouldn’t be respected,” a woman’s voice with a noticeable Philadelphia accent called out.

Georgia and Dick turned around and were met with a First Lieutenant in her four-pocket dress uniform. A blue combat infantry badge, purple heart, and parachutist’s badge were the most notable aspects of her uniform alongside the All-American patch on her left shoulder. Her brown hair was tucked up neatly beneath her overseas cap, and freckles dotted her face.

“Marian!” Georgia exclaimed, rushing forward with a broad smile on her face. The two embraced, leaving Dick as a confused bystander. They laughed and smiled and swayed where they stood, reveling in each other's company.

“You to know each other?” asked Dick.

“‘Course we do!” said the brunette, “We went through OCS together, back around spring of ‘41.”

Georgia smiled, her head full of fond memories.

“Dick, this is -”

“Lieutenant Marian Singer, 504th PIR, 82nd Airborne Division,” she said as she strode towards Dick. They shook hands. Hers were calloused and brash, much like her apparent mannerisms.

“Lieutenant Dick Winters,” he said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant.”

Marian turned to look at Georgia. “Where’d you pick this one up, Amish country?”

“Are there Amish in Lancaster?” Georgia asked genuinely. Dick shot her a subtle glare.

“Lancaster? Oh, there's lots of them out there, or so I hear. I grew up in the Irish Catholic side of Philly, and I didn’t stray too far growin’ up.”

Dick’s eyes gave away a look of understanding that didn’t appear on his face, as though Marian’s being from Philadelphia was somehow the answer to all his life’s questions.

He cleared his throat, then spoke. “You’ve been in combat,” he said, nodding to her uniform.

“And you haven’t, I can tell,” Marian said, eyeing up his pristine uniform and jump boots. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it, not noticing Dick’s subtle change of posture the way Georgia as the smoke drifted past him.

 _Sorry_ , Georgia mouthed.

“I jumped into North Africa, Sicily, and Italy,” said Marian.

Dick looked at her, impressed.

“You think you’re ready for combat, kid?” Marian asked as she bumping her shoulder against Georgia’s.

“Sure,” the redhead replied, before suddenly looking at Dick. “Hey Red, tell Sink I’ll be back later. I want to catch up with Marian.”

Dick nodded amicably and watched as Georgia and Marian trekked off down through the quaint English arm in arm.

“I don’t like him,” Marian said, “he’s too green to make a good combat officer if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you,” Georgia replied tartly.

“Nah, but you haven’t killed any Krauts either, and I have. Who’s judgment do ya trust more?”

“I’ll keep my own counsel,” said Georgia, looking anywhere besides at her friend.

They continued walking down the main street, passing various men and women that Georgia recognized from the 506th and some civilians that she wasn’t acquainted with.

“Do they ever trust you more?” Georgia asked suddenly. She was thinking about how even though Colonel Sink relied on her, Strayer and Sobel and other men still doubted her.

“Who, men?”

Georgia nodded, and Marian sighed. The latter glanced out at the grassy green hills, and eventually looked back at Georgia. They were alone now, at the edge of town.

“Doll, they’re men. They’re never gonna trust a woman in combat as much as a man. You and I both know that, and we have since basic training.”

Georgia sighed too and stayed dejected as Marian planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Chin up, doll,” Marian said, “or else -”

“Or else you’ll miss out on life,” Georgia said, finishing off Marian’s catchphrase. “You’ve said that to me some many damn times.”

“If it works, it works,” Marian said, laughing as Georgia leaned up to kiss her on the cheek in return. The pair walked over to a fence and stared out across the landscape, just thinking.

Georgia thought about how if she’d first met Marian Singer in a different place in a different place than Officer Candidate School - however unlikely that might’ve been - that they could have been a great deal more than simply friends who called each other loving endearments and kissed each other on the cheek.


	15. Upottery Airfield, England. June 4th, 1944.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end, folks! Part 2 of CHIYC will begin updating on Jan. 2nd of next year. As for Part 1, I have one small request -please comment on this chapter! It's my favorite one, and I'd love to see everyone's genuine response to it.

**_Upottery Airfield, England. June 4th, 1944._ **

“You’re serious?”

Colonel Sink nodded. Georgia had seen the distant thunderheads all day, but last she’d heard Overlord was still on for that night. Nevertheless, she nodded. Sighing, Georgia saluted and exited Sink’s makeshift office inside of the Regimental HQ tent. 

“I’ll tell the company and battalion commanders myself.”

Georgia picked her way through the endless rows of olive-drab tents, going from leader to leader. The conversation was always the same.  _ There's a storm rolling into the channel, they’re predicting high winds over the DZ. We’re postponing the invasion for the next twenty-four-hours. Take your men to the tents and the hangars. Get some rest. _

The delay rubbed them all wrong because they’d been at Upottery for almost a week with no action. The paratroopers were ready to deploy, that much was certain. The tension was constantly palpable in the air.

Georgia caught Lew and Strayer at the battalion HQ tent. Lew noticed her and smiled, then furrowed his brow. “Where’s your gear?” Strayer turned to face her as well.

“We’re not jumping tonight. Word came down from Division and SHAEF, the storm over the channel is going to be an issue for too long for us to start the invasion tonight. The current plan is to try again tomorrow.”

The men nodded gravely.

“You want me to tell the boys?”

“No Lew, I’ve been telling the company commanders myself.”

“Alright,” he said, “I’ll see you later.”

She smiled and turned away, continuing her rounds. As she reached Lieutenant Meehan’s tent, she realized it was empty. He had to be down at the airfield with Easy. She walked there at a quick pace, and the men and women of the regiment.

Finally reaching the airfield, Georgia steeled her gaze, searching. She found him.

“Meehan!”

He turned over his shoulder and caught her gaze. His face was darkened with burnt cork, but he didn’t have any of his gear on yet.

He looked at her warily. “What is it?”

She bit the bullet. “The jump is off. The storm of the channel is the worst June squall in twenty years, or so Ike’s meteorologists say. High winds, big waves, and more trouble than it’s worth. We’ve been ordered to stand down for the next twenty-four hours.”

“Damnit,” he muttered. “How long are we staying here for then?”

“Not too long. There are already concerns about the integrity of the invasion - questions about the confidentiality of the whole thing. Trust me, they’ll get us out of England and into Normandy as quickly as they can.”

Meehan nodded. “Better to land on some dry ground than a puddle, I suppose.”

Georgia smirked. “You got that right. You take care of Easy, I’ve got the tell Dog, Fox, and the commanders over in Third.”

Meehan nodded - a quick jerk of his head before striding towards a jeep. As Georgia continued walking, she saw Dick.

She spoke first. “No jump tonight, Meehan will explain it all.”

Dick opened his mouth and then closed it, gaze following her as she strode off towards Third Battalion. She met with Wolverton and the company commanders, then began the long walk back to Regimental HQ. She caught Colonel Sink on his way out.

His expression softened. “Go relax, Georgia. You don’t need to stay here.”

“Sir, I’m your intelligence officer.”

“And the intelligence of this operation is solid. Any word will come down to whoever’s at the radio, and that doesn’t need to be you.”

“With all due respect sir, what exactly are you trying to avoid telling me?”

Sink shook his head and exhaled slowly. “My bet’s on the jump being tomorrow night.”

She nodded, then sighed, then saluted. “Yes, sir.”

“None of that. Go get some sleep. I’ll need you at your best when we hit the ground in Normandy.”

“Of course, sir.”

She smiled and strolled away, towards the tents where the movies were playing. Georgia poked her head in, but none of the films piqued her interest. The last good film she’d seen had been Casablanca, and the last one with good music had been Holiday Inn.

Georgia elected to wander around in the cool evening and smoke cigarette after cigarette. About thirty minutes in, a runner caught her.

“Colonel Sink sent me, ma’am. The weather’s supposed to be clear enough for the invasion to go ahead tomorrow, at least according to SHAEF. Nothing official yet, but that’s the rumor.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

Georgia continued putting one foot in front of the other, smoking one cigarette after another until she found herself outside a film tent occupied by much of Easy Company. She went to pull another cigarette from her remaining pack of Lucky Strikes, but it was empty.

“Damnit,” she muttered. The one currently sitting in her mouth was nearly burnt out. Dick would give her his rations, Georgia supposed.

Ah, speak of the devil.

“Do you think it’s clearing up?” Lew asked.

Dick shook his head, eyeing the sky warily. “Nope.” He shifted his Garand.

“I think it’s clearing up.”

“He’s right, you know,” Georgia called in a sing-song voice. As she approached the pair, she threw her cigarette to the ground, resisting the urge to pull out another. “Report just came through from SHAEF. This storm will be out of here by this time tomorrow. Ike hasn’t called it, but every betting man involved has but their money on tomorrow.”

Dick nodded, and Lew took a sip from his flask. Georgia smiled bitterly. The three of them began to circle the tents. They talked occasionally, but never for more than a few minutes. They spoke about Lew’s visits to Chicago, and Georgia’s single summer in Marseilles.

“You spent a summer in Marseilles?” Dick asked.

“I did. It’s beautiful there. I’ll have to show you around sometime.”

“I suppose you will.”

After an hour, they parted ways. Georgia went back to her tent and tossed and turned for hours. By the time she awoke, the ground was hard beneath her feet. The storm had broken in their marshaling area overnight.

The rest of the day went by in a blur of activity. Reports, plans, equipment, men, women. At around six-thirty in the evening, they got the nod from Ike. Overlord was on. D-Day was to be the sixth of June, nineteen forty-four.

She caught Lew by the arm as he exited Second Battalion’s tent. He looked at her, before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a hug. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before pulling back. His hands stayed on her shoulders.

“Goddamnit G, you better fucking survive this.”

She tried not to cry. “I’ll do it if you do Lew.”

He smiled at her and gave her shoulders a last shake before walking away. Still smiling, Georgia walked back to her tent to start getting her gear on.

The soldiers of the regiment had marched from the tent city to the aircraft assembly area a while ago. No one had spoken. The air held a strange intensity as if time was standing still. Though the airfield was full of soldiers, it felt strangely empty. It didn’t help that it was practically devoid of color. Olive drab, army brown, khaki jump jackets, and the black of burnt cork blurred together in a military rainbow. Georgia scanned the airfield, and a flash of red hair caught her eye. Bright against olive jump gear, just like hers. Dick was leading Second Platoon. Georgia jogged over as best she could weighed down by her gear. The sun was catching her hair as well as his this time, different from when he’d first noticed her. The sunset bathed them both in a golden light as Georgia reached Dick.

“Hey paratrooper, chin up,” said Georgia. Her smirk created the perfect mask.

Dick walked away from his men to speak to her. “Are you ready?”

“I know the plan.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

Georgia bit her cheek. Her shoulders were tense, and her stomach rolled. She blinked and focused on Dick’s face. No judgment, only concern. 

“We’ll find out when I hit the ground, now won’t we?”

Dick smiled and set a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll meet you over there. Hang tough, Georgia.”

“Hang tough, Dick.” She smiled back and set her hand on Dick’s shoulder. 

After a moment, the two broke apart. Georgia turned away and began walking back towards her plane. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t turn back. They’d passed an invisible point. They had bigger issues now than friendship.

Finally reaching her plane, she glanced around. Some of the officers had elected to use the British leg bags, but most - including her - hadn’t. There was so much at stake already, why add another variable to the mix?

Georgia checked her watch, and the movement sped up accordingly around her. One by one, the regimental staff officers boarded the plane. After the first eleven went, it was her turn. She set her hands on the edges of the door and hauled herself up as Richey pushed on her gear from behind. Inside the plane, she felt worse. The air was thin and stifling, and the solid walls, floor, and bench were the only thing keeping her grounded.

After Sink and the last three officers boarded the plane, one of the pilots came back and attached the door. 

“Alright now,” Sink said, “take your first damn pill.”

Georgia put it in her mouth and swallowed it dry, not wanting to try and dig out her canteen. After a few minutes, she felt even more ill. The heat in the plane was not helping. Her head fell back against the wall as she took deep breaths.

A few minutes passed. Georgia touched her shoulder again. Dick’s hand had been warm and comforting, and for a moment she wished she had been in his stick instead of the Regimental HQ stick. Georgia shook her head and rubbed at her temples. Mentally, she reviewed the sand tables and the maps _.  _ She knew Operation Overlord inside and out. There was a reason she’d made it to Regimental staff before entering combat. Looking up and around the plane, Georgia caught Sink’s eye. He nodded to her, and she smiled. 

Inhaling deeply, she let her hand drift back to her clicker. Turning it over and over and over, she still couldn’t stop her leg from shaking. Suddenly, the engine of the C-47 hummed to life. Her stomach lurched as it rose into the sky. She felt weightless. Glancing out the window, Georgia saw the other planes take off and enter the formation. As they flew their circuitous route over England, she watched more and more C-47s join them. The sunlight gradually faded until it was truly nighttime. The moonlight appeared to glint off the metal, and she thought she caught vague glimpses of faces darkened with burnt cork. Georgia pulled her watch from beneath her sleeve as they approached the channel. From the look of it, they were about thirty miles out. Everything was going according to plan, at least so far.

The further they flew, the darker it got. The moon disappeared into the clouds and the water of the channel was dark and silent below them. On Sink’s command, Georgia swallowed her second air sickness pill. It made her feel like her stomach was about to fly out of her throat. Moving quickly, she closed her eyes and put her head between her knees. Georgia would’ve felt self-conscious, if not for the fact that half of the men in the plane with her were doing the same thing.

After a moment, she felt a hand on her back.

“You alright, Georgia?” It was Sink, shouting in her ear. Shrugging him off and sitting up, Georgia nodded.

“I’m fine sir, just the air sickness pills.”

Sink’s expression remained soft and fond. “I know you won’t let me down Georgia. You haven’t yet,” he said.

She nodded as he returned to his seat, and peered out into the darkness past his shoulder. She could faintly see the five-thousand ships that comprised Operation Neptune, the seaborne invasion. The water vaguely reminded her of Norfolk.

She despised Norfolk, and forced the thought away. She didn’t want to taint this memory with the vulgarity of another. Looking down again, she could almost see the landing craft that sat upon the decks of the naval ships.

For them, H-Hour was six-thirty AM. Before that, the five-oh-sixth needed to capture and hold the two exits off of Utah Beach, or else those soldiers would be massacred. Take out the German positions, get the bridges, hold the roads. Georgia thought back to General Eisenhower’s words. “Great crusade.” Was it?

One of the pilots came back and took off the door. Twenty minutes out.

As far as she could see, the clouds still shrouded everything in darkness. She glanced down at the water. No light reflected off it. She remembered seeing the flooded areas on the maps and sand tables and made a promise to herself to enter Normandy by jumping onto dry land.

Georgia was shaken back to reality by the red light and Sink’s shouting. She couldn’t see the lights from their drop zone, or any other. The pathfinders, Marian’s pathfinders, should’ve had them marked by now. The French Resistance was supposed to help too.

“Stand up!” 

Stand. She was behind Richey, the Regiment’s S-1. Personnel officer, her mind provided. The plane was gaining speed worryingly quickly.

“Hook up!”

_ Click.  _ The red light was still blazing, and Georgia was shaking. Just like Dick during that march to Atlanta. She smiled softly. The floor of the C-47 dropped and rolled dramatically as they lost altitude, and she grabbed her static line to steady herself. Probably just like those ships in the channel.

“Equipment check!” Hester patted her shoulder almost on top of where Dick had, and she patted Richey’s in turn. Bullets dinged against the metal fuselage of the plane.

“Sound off for equipment check!” She heard the cries. She still couldn’t see any indicators of their drop zone. She needed to find out where they were.

“Fifteen okay!” The pilots were bringing them in too fast.

“Fourteen okay!” If they lost any more altitude, they weren’t going to need any fucking parachutes.

“Thirteen okay!” Was Lew alright? What about Dick?

“Twelve okay!” There was a large fire in the distance. 

“Eleven okay!” The fire was in a small town. Did it look anything like Lancaster, where Dick grew up?

“Ten okay!” Lancaster was a city, Dick had said.

“Nine okay!” Still too lost.

“Eight okay!” Still too low.

“Seven okay!” Still too fast.

“Six okay!” Machine gun rounds flew all through the plane.

“Five okay!” Hester.

“Four okay!” Georgia screamed. She didn't recognize her voice.

“Three okay!” Richey.

“Two okay!” It was Matheson.

“One okay!” It was Sink, the jumpmaster. 

Dick was a jumpmaster too. Stick sixty-seven.

The light changed to green.

“Go!” Sink shouted. The first three men were out the door in an instant. Georgia’s hands gripped the sides. She flung herself out into the night.

“CURRAHEE!” she screamed.

_ One thousand. _ Flak and tracer rounds flew all around her. 

_ Two thousand.  _ She scrambled, searching for any landmarks.

_ Three thousand.  _ A parachute was draped over a church steeple. Was that St. Mere-Eglise?

_ Four thousand.  _ Her main chute deployed with a violent jerk that had her gritting her teeth. Georgia heard the bullets that missed her body rip through it. Her reserve swayed peacefully in front of her. 

The clouds above her still obscured any hope of a watchful moon. Georgia simply floated down. The only source of light was the fire. She was much closer to it now than she had been earlier, in the plane. Uninvited, the lyrics to the paratroopers’ death song drifted through her mind, and she let a twisted smirk cross her face.  _ The risers swung around her neck; connectors cracked her dome. Suspension lines were tied in knots around her skinny bones. The canopy became her shroud; she hurtled to the ground.  _ _ And she ain't gonna jump no more.  _

_ Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die.  _

_ Gory, gory what a hell of a way to die. _

_ Gory, gory what a hell of a way to die. _

She approached the ground quickly. The goddamn pilots did drop them too low after all.

Georgia pulled on the paracord risers, directing herself towards an empty patch of solid ground. 

She braced her legs for the impact.

It never came. 

It wasn’t the solid, albeit, muddy ground of Normandy that she had been expecting.

Her vision went black and blurry. 

Georgia gasped at the last second. 

Mud squished in between her fingertips.

The water enveloping her was tepid and thick.

_ And she ain’t gonna jump no more. _


End file.
